by Anton Wills-Eve
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Re-springing Your Step.”
I left my dying fiancee’s bed
I wandered lost down lanes that led
To moments of unimaginable dread
That all I loved would soon be dead.
God use my loss as to You she sped,
Please hold her soul in hands that bled
So every tear she had ever shed
And every prayer she had ever said
Would lead her finally to be wed
To our holy victory in Your Godhead!