The Visit

He hung his cloak upon the hook

And snook into her room

He gave a welcome smile and then

His love lit up the room.

 

The visitor sat beside her as she slept

He smoothed her pain away

He gently mopped her fevered brow

And for her soul did pray.

 

The sunset glowing in the west

The day drew to a close

He took her tortured soul in hand

And exchanged it for a rose.

 

As morning sun lit up the room

Her family finally gathered

Her soul had passed across by now

Shared memories were all that mattered.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse poetics.

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