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