A Widow's Love Poem by james watkin
A Widow's Love
Embittered, your girl's love
Does spoil, cast aside?
Youth, a many fruited tree
Yet to be offered!
Think of her's; rots, buried;
Cannot be replaced.
First, last. By Death's own hand
Stripped and squashed. Oh my!
The 'one apple of her eye'.
Heart-hung; heart, withered.
Sunday, March 19, 2023
Topic(s) of this poem: affinity and love,widow
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8/21/2025 8:35:41 AM # 1.0.0
