Too Late The Cello Sang - Poem by Hm. Nes
'Too late, ' the cello sang.
In misty stillness mourned the twilight-
Thomas Caster Abernathy took his life.
For weeks he wandered, truly wondering
How to find himself in Carnforth
After Bessie stole his heart and won the grave.
No children shared their journey;
Not a friend had gathered to him.
She the only one to ever sing his name,
And played the cello as she sang it.
Waltzed his heart, though legs stayed sober-
Thomas Caster Abernathy loved her true.
The city sank into a slumber,
None to hear his labored sobbing-
Longing, praying, begging God to hear his voice.
Then the bridge, so high above-
The river churning far below-
And once again for Bessie, Thomas prayed.
Too late the cello sang
In misty stillness of the twilight-
Thomas Caster Abernathy joined his wife.
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