Wounded Soul

Burdened by harshness, overcome with grief The young man pondered, complete disbelief It was only yesterday, a smile she had brought Yesterday is gone and now he has naught. At the hands of another, she was taken too fast Wet roads, blurred vision, wasn’t meant to last She was coming to meet him, nightcaps for two When the other, abruptly, changed what was due The phone it then rang, “Mr Johnson? Sargeant Stedt” That’s all he could remember of the words I just said “Your wife, sir, she had an accident, please come quick”. His heart then stopped beating, he was violently sick. He arrived at the scene. Two cars were torn apart. He still hoped for a chance, with all of his heart. It was too late. She had gone. He felt so alone As he bent to kiss her softly. Oh, the love he had shown. With my arm around him, asking him to take a seat, I saw how he weakened. He must be off his feet. I explained how the other seemed to have lost control Yet, he did not hear me, this poor wounded soul. Knowing his burden of the many days ahead I gave him a card, of which he now read A plain old hallmark that seemed to say it all And I knew that it helped when he started to bawl. “Weep not for the loss; the love of your life Think of those happy times, those days with your wife Be grateful of your time and sharing each breath Celebrate her living, grieve not of her death.”