Cara

The wounded warrior can barely stand 
A beautiful speech therapist
Now leans only on a flimsy , breaking branch 
The battlefield , a hospital.  Diagnosis: cancer. 
A ribbon tied loosely around her skull
Hides small wisps if you more than glance 
Which once held luscious locks of chestnut Strands 
As she walked proudly among her patients 
And down the wedding aisle, her white dress flailing 

Before the bravery, before the surreal 
The bow about to break and no surgery can heal
as the hand of wicked illness 
Steals a friend , so Dear 
Her heart-breaking collapse 
Crushing the hearts and souls of her little Ones
She fought tooth and nail to be their Mom 
For those who never knew her heart or gentle soul 
all I can say, is I feel much sorrow 
"It's not fair", were the final dying words 
Of a woman fighting and wishing  she would live  
Atleast until tomorrow

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