The yellow rose turns it’s head,
Towards the woman in red
Walking down the aisle with grace,
As it remembers seeing its cherubic face

In the churchyard last Sunday,
Wiping off her eyes where lay
The ancient grief of blood-loss
As she waits for years for her love ’cause

She’s destined to test her patience strong
Even though seven years’ wait is too long
For her husband to return to her from the grave
That doesn’t exist in the war zone depraved…

<a rel=”license” href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/”&gt;Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.



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