Widow’s Walk, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Widow’s Walk

Stoically she stood, the salty air
Driven by the hot summer southward winds.
For but a moment her thought she rescinds
But not of her insistent nervous stare.

To the horizon from the widow’s walk,
Searching for a very special object.
Without it her life would be fully wrecked.
With current thoughts she’s unable to talk.

For tea the small table was set for two,
To sit and talk about each other’s day,
As they have done so countless times before.

Together this place is a pleasant view.
Alone, the only thing to do is pray.
At this moment her tears begin to pour.

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