Why? Poem by Gordon D Wilkinson

Echoes of the mandolins resound through the night
As the plucking heart stings recover
Mournful melodies of the past
Vibrating through my soul
Kissed for the final time with your smile
Now closed in its hermits lair
Why were you, snatched from my side?
What were we doing that was so wrong?
Could it not have been me taken on the chariot of death?
I would gladly have taken your place
I would gladly
Left the smells and sounds of spring
Instead, left here in the cold of winter
Winter that is never-ending until my time to ride
A burning heart encased in a frosted tomb
No more to feel the pleasure of your touch
The brush of honeyed lips upon mine
The caresses of minds as we spoke late into the night
Just a bare carcass left alone
A eunuch of time