Friday night at half past ten,
I turn off the lights and head for the den;
Never too early, never too late,
All I can do is sit there and wait.
She's never been late like this before,
Yet I don't expect her to appear at the door;
Then came the call concerning the crash,
Dashing my future, revealing my past.
After hearing the news of my beautiful wife,
I sit there and remember her God-given life;
I remember the touch of her silky hand
Which bore the ring of our wedding band.
She's looking from Heaven to say goodbye,
I'm looking back up and wanting to die;
We seem to speak as if we are one,
Yet I know the accident is already done.
There is still a flame that hasn't diminished,
It won't stop glowing until I am finished;
I wait for the day I'll see her once more,
I know she'll be waiting at Heaven's front door.
I'll never forget the love that we shared,
And I'll always remember how much she cared.
I blame the car that took her life,
I love and will miss her for she is my wife.
Recore, you are poems are so sad, yet sweet. You can e-mail him and tell him how you feel.