Past The Last Stitch

She could never venture far on foot;
pain piercing her hip hot and sharp,
she wouldn’t carp, just carry on.

We sat on the park bench for a while
until the throbbing began to subside;
she couldn’t quite hide the hurt from me…

She told me a thing that day, surprised me!
Said she’d always wanted a red dress…
A blush began to caress her face;

that’s when I got the best of ideas.
I’d purchase some red jersey fabric,
a dress for her birthday, neat trick

if I managed to keep it secret.
It wouldn’t take me that long to make,
how could I go wrong to bring a smile

to that sweet face; always so serene
even when the agony became
demeaning. Her aim to suppress

her distress from those she loved best.
Just as the last stitch was in place
the red dress ready to encase

the diminutive figure;
she passed on, no more suffering.
Enough being enough for her.

She lay peaceful in her coffin;
nut brown hair tinged with grey
and red dress newly on display…