The President Called Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

July 6,1921 - March 6,2016

The clouds are stirring across the sky.
There is a hush across the nation.
Nancy has finally waved good-bye,
and my tears fall with sweet laudation.

For years, she lingered in wait of him.
The thorn of loneliness pricked her side.
Morning in America grew dim
the day that the love of her life died.

This morning the call finally came.
The President whispered to her heart,
calling her sweetly, gently by name:
‘My Dear First Lady, Mommie, Sweetheart.'

Love lifted wings and sailed for the sun,
entering through heaven's golden arch.
Twin souls anchored, together as one,
are dancing through the keyhole of March.