Devastation

Bell rings in the still chill air,
a lonely tolling on a Sunday.
Death has claimed from me
the one that I loved so much...
and the chill is also in my soul.

I stand at her graveside, looking
at cold granite and sodden grass.
Tears flow from my eyes as
the sun is blotted by the grey skies,
much like her life was blotted out.

My soul is now a barren wasteland,
never to recover from this devastation.
If the rain falls, let it be...on me.
I lay the red roses at the headstone
and pray for our mutual delieverance.

One time, she was so warm and loving.
But now, just a cold, stony memory.
I'm forever destroyed by her going.
The devastation can never be cured...
and the chill will be forevermore.

--RKJ