Ten years and More - Miriam Waddington (1917)

When my husband
lay dying a mountain
a lake three
cities ten years
and more
lay between us:

There were our
sons my wounds
and theirs,
despair loneliness,
handfuls of un-
hammered nails
pictures never
hung all

The uneaten
meals and unslept
sleep; there was
retirement, and
worst of all
a green umbrella
he can never
take back.

I wrote him a
letter but all
i could think of
to say was : do you
remember Severn
River, the red conoe
with the sail
and lee-boards?

I was really saying
for the sake of our
youth and our love
I forgave him for
everything
and i was asking him
to forgive me too.

its such a simple simple poem.. but.. so raw. rawness just hits me right there. feeling very oddly frail tonight