One day, while in a deserted grove
Lit over my hand a turtledove.
For his lost mate began to coo,
And it made me think of my lost mate, too.
Oh, little dove, you are not alone;
With you I am destined to mourn,
For, like you, once I had a mate,
And with you now I’ll mourn my fate.
Consumption seized her lungs severe,
And preyed upon her one long year.
Her blooming cheeks and her sparkling eyes
Did wither and fade like a rose that dies.
Those arms that once embraced me ’round
Are moldering now in the cold, cold ground.
For she died, well…that’s what they say.
Yet I see and talk and hold her every day.
In visions and dreams she will appear.
Sometimes leading me to a land beyond the atmosphere.
Beyond all signs of human life.
She will appear wrapped in a shadow and covered in light.
Creating a gray Welcoming light.
We will snuggle at the crossroads.
She will tell me about the other side.
Preparing me for when it is my time.
My time to join her. My time to die.
It makes dying less scary.
Not that I look forward to it.
But I am comforted.
Knowing my home and knowing she is here.
Knowing all of my loved ones will also be near.
Renee Robinson
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