Moving On

Her days claimed as a maiden were no more, One husband stumbled off his mortal coil. Once broken hearted, now a little sore; Routine replacing grief ridden turmoil. The days were filled with female cheer and chat Of plays and tea and bracing walks outside. As cheery as it was, she felt quite flat; An inner yearning now so hard to hide A silent prayer departed her cold lips: ‘Dear God, find me some passion in my life, For sure there’s still some movement in these hips. It’s time to change the role of grieving wife.’ And so Cupid pulled back his faithful bow To help her find a well earned youthful glow. January 30th 2020