At the far end of the casket,
his girlfriend hugged his wife
And told her she was sorry,
that she had tried to steal her life
Their tears then ran in unison,
for a man who loved them both
The years they shared now testament,
to a choice he left unspoke
They never met before this day,
and would never meet again
But each knew well the other,
and they almost felt like friends
The mistress left, the children wept,
and the grandchildren played outside
As his wife looked down, saying: “Your hell has passed,
sleep well my love—goodbye”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
