he heard her cry at night.
He jumped out of his bed
to see that she was alright.
She was holding her hand over her chest,
agony upon her face.
He pulled her close with great concern,
but held her with such grace.
Her eyelids closed as she glared at him
with fear behind her eyes,
but his heart went out to her with ache,
for his love felt through the disguise.
He gently laid her head upon
his shirt right off his back,
then ran so quickly to the phone
to report her heart attack.
He then returned to her side
and held her in his arms.
Hiding his tears to give her strength,
he waited for the sound of alarms.
They needed no more than see them
and knew that she had died.
How would they tell the man who loved her,
it was a waste that he even tried?
Written by Gail Brookshire
(published in Expressions, May 24, 1993 Issue, page 2)
(by the grace of God)
This was poem won over a layout Editor that was very much a stickler and a gruff on purpose. She told me so with a smile after she read this poem while typing into the campus paper. She told me she knew that I didn’t plagiarize it like a lot of people were doing since I sat down in front of them and wrote it for a needed fill in. She said I was real and talented, and almost made her cry. I was glad she didn’t really hate me. 🙂