1606

The tear-shaped rain hammered out its fugue
On paving stones; as the Bronze skies, unabashed
Wept for this frail little heroine below. 

Even Thor, in his despair, made rainclouds clash;
As if to let the whole wide World know
That her death would tilt it so soon askew.

But, heroes are not made by force of arms,
Nor found upon the bloodied battlefield.
No! 						
They are tempered in this normal life
Forged everyday, from stronger stuff than steel.

That was how is was for this miner’s wife,
Who so quietly suffered all this World’s harms.

Now the Morning Light halos round her face
And bathes the room in its warming radiance,
As God, in his mercy, gives her His Grace
And welcomes her to Heaven, 			
With Angel’s Wings!   

04/05/08

Normally I do not add notes but in this case just to let readers know the number is the exact time my mum died and I wrote this approximately 2 hours after on that date

Tags: sad, rhyme, pain,