Following up on a request. The reading is by my great buddy Alison
‘I would have been his widow, if he’d wed me;
But he feared that I’d be grieving all my life.
For a loved him more than you might rightly fathom.
Loved him sore as if I had’ve been his wife.’
There she knelt and placed bright flowers on his gravestone.
All the Flowers o’ the forest in full bloom;
And she kissed spread fingertips, lifted gently to her lips.
Then caressed his name carved on the granite tomb.
‘It would be true to say we each one knew the other.
I mean knowing in the Holy Bible sense.
But we held that knowledge closely to our bosom;
Though we found it hard to master the pretence.’
‘He’s my Tam, as sure as if we’d had the blessing.
One o’ millions that were hung upon the cross.
Spilling blood in Flanders mud, dying for the greater good;
But without his name you’ll not discern my loss.’
In her Nineties; I could see that she must struggle.
So I asked if she’d return again next year.
With a smile she said, ‘Next week, as I’ve done for sixty years.
For each week I bring fresh flowers you see, my dear.’