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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Relationship · #1013646
A grieving widow hesitates to go on with her daily life.
~This is a poem based on my other item called The Progression.~


Persistent sharp rays in vain scraped the slats
That hid specks of dust now stopped in their tracks.
Incessant ticking, one's gift of time lost,
Marked the transition of once love's high cost.

She stared off blindly at old sights unseen
Recalling her life and what it did mean
When flowered presents gave off cherished scents
And slip of the ring a set alliance.

When laughter provoked the same witty joke,
His hair falling through her fingers evoked
A snapshot of scenes, of living, of dreams,
Of memories too strong to fray at the seams.

Outside of her room, the sizzle of meats
Seeped in their flavor and left incomplete
The taste of her own, once savory, now grown
As stale as a field of corn left unhewn.

The cries of children, delighted with glee,
Joined screams of engines throughout the city
And melted to soft condolences brought
By loyal friends to the widow distraught.

Whispering branches became still and staid,
And o'er his coffin their white buds were laid.
His countenance was cold and, unto his wife,
As icy as stone, unlike in real life.

Her fingers reached out and wrapped round the rod.
Turning and turning, the sun gave a nod
Towards the ornate frame she held in her hand.
The surety of change would doubtless demand

That she rid her soul of embedded grief,
Set down the picture and embrace belief
In healing one's heart – yet she was afraid
Her memories of him would thereafter fade.
© Copyright 2005 LauraDElliott (jesslynjewel at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1013646-Lifes-Transitions