The room was very dark
The candle was the only
Source of light and hope
In her completely airless
Dungeon like home with
Every door & window shut
She was a poor aged widow
Abandoned by kith and kin
No one had the will or means
To support her with her ill health
The Sisters of Charity visited her
To give her, her daily bread
That night the candle flickered
Afraid she wondered why
There was no breeze at all
An eerie silence prevailed
Apart from the sound
Of her occasional wheeze
Suddenly her world lit up
She felt a strange presence
In the dark dinghy room
As her husband smiled lovingly
And taking her hands he led her
Out of her miserable prison forever
The next morning the shocked
Sisters of Charity found her dead
With the perfume of roses in the room
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 7:58 AM UTC
The room was very dark
The candle was the only
Source of light and hope
In her completely airless
Dungeon like home with
Every door & window shut
She was a poor aged widow
Abandoned by kith and kin
No one had the will or means
To support her with her ill health
The Sisters of Charity visited her
To give her, her daily bread
That night the candle flickered
Afraid she wondered why
There was no breeze at all
An eerie silence prevailed
Apart from the sound
Of her occasional wheeze
Suddenly her world lit up
She felt a strange presence
In the dark dinghy room
As her husband smiled lovingly
And taking her hands he led her
Out of her miserable prison forever
The next morning the shocked
Sisters of Charity found her dead
With the perfume of roses in the room
Copyright © 2011 Sandra MARTYRES
All rights reserved