She Waits To Be Led...

He had tried to woo her,
The broken young bride,
Who'd learnt before forever,
The seventh was their last stride.

She'd have clasped his hand,
And agreed to elope,
But for that tug, the demand,
Her tyke's helpless grope.

She stuck with the wayfarers,
Bowed the ribbons instead,
Now, legs fail as bearers,
And hands antagonise the head. 

In the hospice, solely abed,
Aching for him in every throe,
She eagerly waits to be led,
Only unable to let him know.