After she had screamed, <br />So loud, that my ears rang <br />Church bells from tiny villages. <br />She hung up the phone. <br />Although the tone always <br />sounds same, this time I <br />could hear the anger. <br />Hurried home, bursting through <br />The wood flaked door, <br />Cith the house numbers <br />Changing position with <br />Every knock of the wind. <br />I found her, sitting under the <br />Stairs rocking to and forth, <br />Crying great drops of tears, <br />From her eyes and forehead. <br />She looked at me with dancing <br />Wild eyes, she said everything <br />She needed to say, <br />Without having to say anything <br />At all. <br />I knew what was coming, <br />And as her husband <br />I knew that I had to calm the situation. <br />'breath slowly dear, <br />long... slow.... deep...... breaths, <br />long....slow.....deep.......breaths, <br />think of calm flowing rivers <br />long.....slow.....deep...... breaths, ' <br />Finally she calmed, <br />Breathing became regular, <br />Eyes stopped there dance, <br />With that she steadily levelled <br />The shotgun between her eyes, <br />And painted the dusty walls <br />Red. <br />I had managed to calm her, <br />How else could she have <br />Held the shotgun straight.....<br /><br />Not Long Left<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/how-to-guide-a-wife-through-a-crisis/
