Today Was the Day

She walked ‘round the room Her soul filled with gloom Her eyes dull and grey, For today was the day . . . She paused by the bookcase And noticed a space Where a tome used to lay; Today was the day . . . In a sense she knew What that shelf was going through The emptiness it felt . . . Weakened, she knelt . . . She crawled to her bed Her face a colourless red Clutching her pillow tight, Never again would her world be right Then something caught her eye Like a spider catching a fly A book: the missing tome Bleak against the table’s chrome She turned it in her hand The feel of its leather grand Noticing prints of a finger She let her thumb there linger Tears welled up in her eye And she couldn’t help but cry His pillow was all she now had To comfort her when she’d feel sad All through the hours she wept Excepting the moments she slept She wished she could make someone say Why today was the day . . . The day God took him away.