a poem by ROY Douglas KNEALE, UK

It was plain, as she knelt there all alone,
That the name on the grave was of one she’d known,
And I watched as she placed flowers on cold stone,
Having cleared autumn leaves, by the wind, there blown.

The lines on her brow told their own sad tale,
As the tears she wept fell upon the shale.
Her body was thin, and her face was pale,
And ‘twas clear she had long since begun to ail.

Moved by her grief, I paused as I passed,
To say ‘It is sad you are so downcast.
I presume you reflect upon sweet times past,
And how you held hands, as he breathed his last.’

“AH NO!” with a break in her voice, she said –
“With three I have shared a marriage bed,
I care not if any of them are dead,
But here lies the one I refused to wed.”

Cat. No. WN287/12.

[Author’s Note: The above was inspired by a Thomas Hardy poem, while I was fighting off a virus infection a few days ago.RDK.]

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