She sits alone this night crying
And yearns for her place,
A gentle caress from the dying
To help pass in times sweet grace.

Heart wounded she mourns sadly
For it's in histories mold,
A world insane in equation madly
Stole away her loves soul.

His price paid for his family
She grasps letters now of stone,
With shadow of memory passing
A man drifts away not known.

We rejoice gladly of the battle
To join death in this race,
But who shall be the father now
To the babies newborn face.

- Christopher John Horne
  Copyright ©2003

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