Death Didn't Part

A woman walks up a steep hill.
She does it twice every day before
she eats breakfast
and before she goes to sleep.

Her journey is long,
the air is hard to breath,
and without her cane
her muscles would give out halfway.

The hill is a high steep incline,
with rocks in certain locations.
If she were to lose her footing
then she would surely be killed.

She has never missed a day
and the weather is never a factor.
The clouds don’t control her desire
to make it up the hill.

She has struggled through
rain, wind, thunder, and snow.
She has crawled through
ice, mud and has never slipped.

She doesn’t forget the danger,
she knows all the risks
even at her old age.
It doesn’t stop her from her desire.

She goes when she has a cold,
when her temperature boils,
 and her arthritis is in effect.
What’s up that hill is her heart.

A cross that’s been there for a decade.
Underneath it, is the person
who gave his heart to her
and made a vow she broke.

They swore till death do them part
but she hasn’t left him
even after he left.
She lives, as if he still does.

She puts on a pot of coffee,
she goes up that hill,
kisses the cross
and says, “Good morning.”

During the day.
She keeps their chairs together,
 she’s watches their shows,
and tend to daily events.

She connects with his family and
shows his picture to the new generation.
She does what she can,
to keep his spirit alive.

At the end of the day.
She’ll put on a pot of soup
and go back up that hill
to kiss it and say something.

The one thing that death can’t control.
“I’ll see you tomorrow my love.”