Of your thirty two years I had none but two plus three
To bask in pride that I was the man with you to be;
Though emotionally bound I had never felt so free.
The holiday last chided I was for worry of your health
Naught but a headache you assured on the twelfth;
Yet from then on their ferocity hidden from me in stealth.
So self involved with lights, presents, music and a glorious tree
Blind was I to a singlular not dual holiday glee…
…now I demand of God why you when it deserved to be me.
On the morn of the twentieth your breath was so shallow,
The glow of your face replaced by ashiness and sallow –
The trip to the hospital seemed like walking a man to the gallow.
There the doctors probed, prodded and did inspect
Only to conclude that Cancer had run amok uncheck’t
Yet to say in their care you did reject.
It was Christmas you steadfast did insist,
A time of joy that nothing should make us in celebrate desist;
I agreed for the twinkle in your hazel eyes I could never resist.
The twenty-fifth morn began as blood from your mouth did splatter,
You firmly avowed twas nothing of import, it did not matter –
I nodded and smiled though inside I felt all a tatter.
Forgotten was soon your body close to mine would be rift,
Being with you on that day put my heart adrift,
Lost in you did I become as time with you was your gift.
Twas as I was making ready to take the turkey from its pant
To be carved with our meal ready as was the plan
When the destruction of my best friend and my lover began.
The potatoes had already been mashed
When I head the thud of your body as down it crashed;
Seeing the blood on the table corner of where it your face it lashed.
My friend, my lover, my wife, you are my present, be and a fore
Your face down and still alive no more
One hand on the bottle of wine you were about to pour…
Auld Lang Syne rang as sat with your favorite ornament in hand
Nine hours thirty two minutes after I had given you to the land –
Oh if only one at that moment could be forgot….
Tis yet another holiday season I yearn to have past
As I stare across the table at the devoid goblet glass’t
Fronting the seat that once to me your smile’s warmth cast.
Ere now as ere then a feast meant for ten I set for two
A hot flavorful bounty to your expectation of what to do
But as it chills to bland cold I sit deepening my rue.