Waiting for the taxi,
sitting in the front room. Dressed in her very best.
A small posey of blooms, favourites of his youth
on the table beside.

A sepia photo of a young
and blushing bride.
The groom tall serious,
all pride,
stands at loose attention. Khaki clad romance, captured before war's incoming tide.

He left for the front,
she stayed behind.
Waited and prayed
for her God to hide,
her young strong lover
from war's unwavering gaze.

Letters came sporadically, cheerful but underscored with fear.
Speaking of a future now held more close and dear. The telegram came to her
as she pruned his roses.

Her march of tredpidation now over.
Her life long walk of grief begun.

She stands now,
and his medals brave
clink, *****,
over her lonely heart.

For while, her ride has come, so she can remember
with others.
In heart, alone, she awaits still and true,
her strong young soldier lost in yonder blue