Swaddled In Loss

The night was silent through the winter freeze, Though time was but a memory's regret. While swaddled there within the cold night breeze, Was everything her heart could not forget. The life which she once held within her hand, Lay on the ground of mortal wounds to die. Then she was left to reminisce and stand Beside the grave as children asked her, "Why?" There is no celebration now of war, As she bemoans the empty childless womb. The rocking of her chair is never far From what was taken...lying in the tomb. As shots ring out to herald each today, She bows beneath her loss and its decay.