Reason and Despair

She looked;

Warm, gentle to a fault, my man Thomas was,

Twice denied the bliss, of a young’un’s euphonious lark.

Was I accountable, the once attractive bride?

Thomas would say so, and Thomas never lied.

 

He looked;

Morose, scarred, she seemed to my eyes,

Once a queen, the essence of all Womankind.

Do I fault her, for the loss I’ve suffered?

No, how could I? For her grief; ‘tis a thousand shades darker than mine.

Author's Note

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