Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-34823985-20180411210726

Writer's Note: I'll probably regret posting this, but whatever. I'm on this sight to step out of my comfort zone, and improve my writing. I have had a long and strange relationship with writing poetry. I haven't written any in a long time, so I'm a bit rusty.

Twenty years I prayed, I pleaded for Him to intercede

I've never loved another one for she is all I need

I followed the tenants of the church, I toiled selflessly

My wife, my love, I miss her so, return her please to me

It seemed my work upon this land had earned me no reply

Long life, such a cursed thing, must I wait until I die?

My bent back in service of Him, all I had for tender

Like letters, my prayers to Him, marked return to sender

September, cold, drab and dreary, a knock upon the door

Standing there, returned to me, her skin a death white pallor

My heart renewed it's beating force, I ushered her inside

We spent the night in pure rejoice, reversed the ebbing tide

She donned her favorite flowered dress, I kept it all this time

It hung quite loose upon her bones, her smile was so sublime

We danced, we cried, she clung so close, it was so bitter sweet

Our night together, she said to me, never could repeat

She vanished with the rising sun, I sought to go with her

Fading into nothingness, she uttered one last whisper

Just one more night you had to wait for us reunited

You failed to see beyond your grief, mortals so short sighted

Didn't know my end was due, if only I had waited

With left hand, the deal was signed, to see my dear departed

Now I'll spend eternity with the Red Hand of the Knife

Forever trapped in his domain instead of with my wife 