Dance in the Haunted Night

Night rises. Soon She will come again.
Every day brings hope each night will ban;
the slightest drear wish for wanting to 'scape
while she lies wasting in hospice drape.

She passed, in a way, she did not die
though such an end would I bless and sigh
for endings bring finality and death
while what she's become yet draws breath.

The nurse checked out, the home is mute
leaving its only patient and her mated brute
who treads round the bed to glance at her face
waiting for the change, the fall of grace.

The night grows cold, I feel it's near
stoop close to her form so I can hear;
pluck her withered hand, lifeless claw
idle months, gasp, breath, slowly draw.

Pink tinges her cheeks, eyelids flutter
a smile that would melt frozen butter
eyes open in beauty only I know
this evening I am again her beaux.

She rises unaided, tumbles to my arms
her bashful grin shows her charms;
straightens and curtsies with a shy glance
and once more we step into our dance.

Slow and sweet we twirl in this room
that in daylight is nearly her tomb
for now it's only us together at last
auto accident a thing of the past.

The tempo picks up, we madly dash
around the home in waltz time flash
sweat pours down my back and side
not a drop from my fevered bride.

I don't know who's inside my love
neither speaks nor writes any clue of,
just nightly dancing through hallways
ending at her bed again as always.

She lies down gently, holding my hand
draws me to the bed as if planned
but the moment our lips touch - revert;
her form falls back on the sheet inert.

Ragged sobs tear through me then
her silent eyes, her stiffened chin
mock my desires as deliberate tease
as I thought my urges could ease.

Morning finds her back to rest
covers smoothed up to her chest
while I for answers continue to prod
these never come so help me God!