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A grandmother often lives alone, and prays to join her husband long gone. This is for my grandmom.

She Waits, And Waits...

Atop the roof, the chimney rests,
Fireplace must be empty tonight.
The bluish snow has fallen deep,
And reflects the glowing sky,
A color not black, a color not bright,
But a color to light this place.

This house of summer, quiet now
For everyone has gone away,
Except the widow, hair of gray
Who waits to join her husband.
His journey done, she waits alone
To start their voyage again.

A candle's glow softens this night,
As she slumbers alone on her couch.
Nothing indeed, to make her smile,
On this snowy night, or into the dark,
Even through the day, into it's end,
She naps, and dreams, and cry's.

This light that shines from within,
Yet shines for her alone it seems.
A light so soft, it's almost gone,
She breathes another heavy sigh,
As slumber takes her will away,
While she waits to be with him again

Poetry by Morpheus
Read 687 times
Written on 2006-03-05 at 19:30