Weeping Widow Poem by Yanga Hlomendlini

The weeping widow;
Like the river orange,
From her window;
She recalls her marriage;
Telling her grandchild;
Of ancient time scales,
Like writ pages filed;
The memories she saved.

She never forgot;
How her husband,
Who now lives not;
Used to hold her hand,
And bring her laughter,
As the aura of delight;
Seemed forever after,
Yet she weeps tonight.

She points at his grave:
Painting her pain,
Like a life chained slave;
Hoping it doesn't remain,
For life is naked and bare;
In the shadows of death;
She has all there,
And her joy is at birth.

Signed: IAmYanG