The widow

There she is that pretty young widow.
Everyday she stands with a bottle of whiskey in her hand behind the window.
For and hour or so she just stands there looking out at the world around her house.
And always she wears his old jeans and a pretty black blouse.
I feel bad for her having to stay in that house that was once occupied by two.
You see,sadly her husband died the way many soldiers do.
I remember the day those men came to deliver the news.
Said he had been shot in the line of enemy fire.
She sank to her knees and cried.
She screamed and argued trying to say that they had lied.
She didn't want to beleive it but she knew she had to.
Feeling her heart breaking right down the middle...right in two.
I suppose she didn't know how else to deal with the immense pain she felt,she didn't know what to do.
That was when she turn to the boos.
Now she tries to hold herself together as she rasies the bottle to her lips.
Just keeps on drinking because she thinks it's all she has left.

by AngelicallyBroken
posted on 06/20/2008