Jane SeymourMature

That demure little creature,

the one that sits so quiet,

so beautiful and calm

she will be mine.

The swish and flick,

then announced the betrothal,

we lived for years together,


And then the pregnancy,

I doted in hope,

a son is born and is christened.

And then, devastation,

my dearest darling wife,

passes away in front of my eyes.

And now Edward will never know his mother,

but his father will be strong. 

The End

3 comments about this poem Feed