Sun shines bright on a glorious day,
Clouds in her heart will not go away
Grief seems her constant friend,
Replaying her loss, again and again
Plucked away in the prime of life
Wishing she could rewind the hands of time
Rustling wind drowns out gentle sobs
Her cries echo, “Why? Why?”
“Was this really your hand?”
Leaves rustle thru the trees
Despondent, she falls to her knees
Hearing stanzas of a woman in chains,
Listening expectantly for someone to call her name
Bound, imprisoned, restrained
Hoping for Freedom’s sweet refrain
Becky J. Miller
Warrior Princess