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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