She cried! A primal cry
Like the roar of the king of the jungle
Signaling an important assembly of sorts
Actions speak louder than words
With an outpour of raw emotions
Like a scene from the second coming of the Most High
She had the heaven’s skies open wide.
With angels blowing trumpets and horns
Others plucking the harp
She, her instrument of circumstance
Strumming her pain with his fingers
Unlike the angel’s melodic echoes
Her tune struck the chord of the broken-hearted
That echoed a melancholy melody
Sombre in mood, dead in spirit.
Poof! Like an epiphany it all disappeared.