by Charmaine Lloyd

Created on: July 05, 2008

Physician Lord, hear my plea,
What is it that ails me?

Stuck forever in this place,
Is it hell, or is it grace?

Sick with love for only one,
Though his deceit scorched the sun.

Welcomed first love in my tent,
Heart chewed up, what's left is spent.

Sent him away, still do it now,
His flaws too much to hold the bough.

Loving him, proximity close,
Untimely death of quickened dose.

Loving him from distance safe,
Slow demise that the bough breaks.

He's my husband, without aisle,
He is nobody, my stolen smile.

Empty dreams, and cries in night
Screaming head and chest so tight.

Scared to love, and barren womb,
I am his painful walking tomb.

Husband to the widow, what's the cure?
My man is dead, and I am sick for sure!

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