She Who Sits

She Who Sits~

She who sits in the chair now empty and dear;
One that embraced her heart for many a year.
One that stole the light for her desire of life,
And one that now spills forth in tears of strife.

She who sits with hands clutched to what life is left,
Can only think day in, day out with shallow breath.
The days are short, but the nights are long and bereft;
“I cannot face the end,” says she who sits and faces death.

“I was his flower and gemstone,” sighs she who sits,
“He was my knight in armor, and he turned my tears to wits.”
Now, the stars have no luster and the sun wields no warmth—
Claims she who sits; time no longer has no meaningful form.

So, she who sits in the midst of a lighted shade,
Does think she wants her life to fade.
Without the love she had for life,
She who sits once was his wife.

Outside the chill of a rainy day’s sting,
For she who sits, many tears to her face cling,
I shan’t be long, my love she sings,
She who sits, drifts off on wings.

Her hands frail and her memory loss,
Were probably the reason for the life taken cause.
For she no longer sits in wait for her dream,
She who sits now dances with her deceased.