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The winter night

 The winter night begins to fall, my heart breaks now, Two years ago, this was your final home-bound vow. A sickness raged that I could never calm or cure, Your pain too great for touch, your spirit too unsure. Oh, God, if I had known those days were counted few, Before the chaos came, and I lost sight of you.

You told me once, a cold house lacked your mother’s soul; Now, as the dusty mauve sunset assumes its toll, The fire is gone out, the hearth is dark and cold. My lonely grief is all the story to be told.

And yet, by the small tree, I weep for all that’s gone, I hear your true voice whisper, "It looks lovely, hun." The kind voice that I loved, before the illness came, To steal your mind and soul, and only leave the pain.

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