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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Tragedy · #1148112
Slightly reminiscent of Poe's Annabel Lee... Slightly.
The Angels Sing

The clock struck noon on this hallowed day.
At my side is where my wife will lay.
Her face, so beautiful, a smile, so divine,
Will never be seen again in this time.
The loathing within is I know to be damned,
But should I ever let go of her hand?
My heart may freeze or it may burn.
But when the pain subsides, maybe I can learn
The angels sing on this hallowed day
For a new member has come into their way.
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