THE HERO AND HIS LADY FAIR
Tall and lanky, middle-aged, breeze ruffling his gray hair,
He walks behind his lady fair, as though he’s not a care.
The telling scarf upon her head speaks words so loud and clear,
Body fighting, chemo biting, it’s been an awful year.
As they approach the waiting car, his arm encircles her,
No ravages of cancer his affections can deter.
He pulls her near, with kisses dear, a lover’s sweet embrace,
And comfort’s share is written there upon her upturned face.
Letting go, he holds her hand while opening her door,
On with their day, in separate ways, he to work, she back to war.
Secure of heart, a work of art, their worth to each is known,
Where two have grown together, neither now will tread alone.
Although a damsel in distress, she’s not a woman weak,
It takes a mighty spirit to scale this mountain’s peak.
And by her side there walks a man, a hero to be sure,
Who takes command and firmly stands as battles they endure.
Charlotte Hartman
