I sit in the chair that he sat in,
And sleep in the bed where he slept,
The silence is loud to my hearing,
How many times now, have I wept.

I view all the things that he collected,
Knowing how he cherished them too,
And here in my heart he will linger,
Because he was the one, of value.

He was my love and my hero,
My right hand and my sounding board,
A husband and friend, right up to the end,
For us there was never discord.

I sit in the chair that he sat in,
And remember how close we became,
He'll always be with me in spirit,
I'm so proud to have taken his name.

© Ernestine Northover

Ernestine Northover

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-hero-8/