Wounded Soul
Burdened by harshness, overcome with grief
The young man pondered, complete disbelief
It was only yesterday, a smile she had brought
Yesterday is gone and now he has naught.
At the hands of another, she was taken too fast
Wet roads, blurred vision, wasn’t meant to last
She was coming to meet him, nightcaps for two
When the other, abruptly, changed what was due
The phone it then rang, “Mr Johnson? Sargeant Stedt”
That’s all he could remember of the words I just said
“Your wife, sir, she had an accident, please come quick”.
His heart then stopped beating, he was violently sick.
He arrived at the scene. Two cars were torn apart.
He still hoped for a chance, with all of his heart.
It was too late. She had gone. He felt so alone
As he bent to kiss her softly. Oh, the love he had shown.
With my arm around him, asking him to take a seat,
I saw how he weakened. He must be off his feet.
I explained how the other seemed to have lost control
Yet, he did not hear me, this poor wounded soul.
Knowing his burden of the many days ahead
I gave him a card, of which he now read
A plain old hallmark that seemed to say it all
And I knew that it helped when he started to bawl.
“Weep not for the loss; the love of your life
Think of those happy times, those days with your wife
Be grateful of your time and sharing each breath
Celebrate her living, grieve not of her death.”
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