So she was fallen in the night,
By limbs now wizened there betrayed;
A tired heart bereft of might,
A body beaten, time decayed.
Did she perhaps call out my name
That I return the help she gave
For but to render there the same,
I might have eased her to the grave.
But I was many miles gone
With arms too short to reach her hand,
The love and life that she did spawn
Now wandered in a foreign land.
Perhaps she knew I loved her more
Than sons have ever loved a grace
And from my breast sweet passion tore
The wish that I had seen her face,
And told her in that fading light
That all she did was good and right.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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