Faded Portrait

A cold and snowy day, in December of ‘44
A telegram arrived, a souvenir of war.
Cold lips began to quiver and hands began to shake,
As she tore into the letter, her heart began to break.
“We regret to inform you…” She read thru misty tears,
It seems like yesterday though it’s been so many years.
His faded portrait smiles, forever young and bold,
While years went marching by ‘til she was bent and old.
Her hair became a cloud of white and she shuffled ‘cross the floor,
She wasn’t the woman she once was; she was so much more.
She lived her life alone but lived with no regret,
A life of quiet strength, but she never could forget
The only love she ever knew, that Death could not erase-
And in her heart love only grew with memories she embraced.
A cold December day, a mourning bell now tolls,
But do not weep or grieve for this departed soul.
She faded into sleep and dreamt a gentle dream,
Her love was waiting there with eyes so welcoming,
They found her just that way, a smile played on her lips,
And from her work-worn hands, his faded portrait slipped…

By Sharon Frye