The Sweetheart Locket

The Sweetheart Locket

She sits alone at the gravesite
oblivious to the rain,
Her body sags from heaviness
from the weight of all the pain.

She wears a faded coat of color
more grayish black than blue,
A hat of woolen fabric
sits atop her head askew.

Her face looks as though a child
with the fear it does portray,
But hands that clutch a locket
do give away her age.

She sobs ever softly
as she holds it close to chest,
For her love of 50 years
has now been laid to rest.

She thought that she would go first
and often told him so,
He even use to scoff at her
when she would let him know.

She knew to be without him
there would be nothing left,
Except a broken place inside
all empty and bereft.

She recalls their first meeting
in the winter of 42',
How deep and clear his eyes were
like an ocean of emerald blue.

It was the middle of the war
and he had been sent back,
With an arm badly mangled
shrapnel still in tack.

She was working as a cadet nurse
and had tended to many men,
But it seemed he was no stranger
when first she took his hand.

He was calling for his mother
with pain he could not hide,
She had wiped his face with handkerchief
and dried the tears he cried.

As the days did pass them by
she found they had a bond,
That silenced all the screams of death
from a war that still raged on.

When he asked her to marry him
in the spring of 43',
He had clasped the sweetheart locket on
while still on bended knee.

She thought of how she had gasped out loud
when first she looked inside,
For there was a piece of the handkerchief
she had used when he had cried.

She had kept it close since then
in the good times and the bad,
For the site of the fabric did soothe her
reminding her of the love that they had.

How it did strengthen her
when she could find no more words to pray,
As she watched her child die of sickness
after living for 12 short days.

She held to it tightly
as her mother reached out in fear,
Finally giving up to cancer
and dying in that same year.

As they both grew older
and thoughts grew old and dim,
The locket kept her grounded
with the memory held within.

She would often times remove it
and smooth its fraying edge,
Bring it softly to her lips
and make a silent pledge.

That she would never leave his side
no matter the turmoil or grief,
Even as she watched his memory of her go
when Alzheimer's was a thief.

She was holding it at bedside
when he took his final breathe,
Placing it gently to his forehead
as he passed away to death.

All that she has left
is an empty place inside,
And a sweetheart locket
with a piece of fabric tucked inside.