Wae Widow's Lament.

This is the strand of hair
His fingers touched
Before the assassin’s
Bullet struck and stilled
The fingers in a silent pose.

This the lobe of ear
He kissed before the bullet
Hissed through air carrying
The note of pained despair
And pinned it in his flesh.

These are the lips that his lips
Met before the hammered bullet
Sped toward his heart, tore you
Both apart, and left him dead.

These are the hands that his
Hands held before the assassin’s
Eye had sighted neat your
Lover’s frame and pulled
The trigger with sweaty finger.

The assassin does not figure
In your memory’s hold, he leaves
You cold, but your lover
Will be in heart and mind
All night and day and his
Cherished love will always stay.