A Second Too Late
She sat at the entrance,
Of her rundown shack,
Listening and waiting,
For her husband to come back.
She sighed and stood up,
Knowing that he won’t,
And realised that for another day,
She would be alone.
She dusted the lingering sadness,
Clean from her pale face,
And once again put up a barrier,
To endure the rest of the day.
Her name was rung in the dusty air,
And she turned to see a toothless grin,
There stood her dear son Tommy,
With mud covering his skin.
“Mama there’s a snake!”
He exclaimed with a smile,
Then dashed around the small shack,
Without waiting for a while.
She panicked for Tommy’s safety,
As she pledged to keep him safe,
Running her fastest to catch up to him,
Only to arrive a second too late.
She scooped him up in her arms,
And ran for dear life,
Hoping to find someone, anyone,
To help a drover’s wife.
She collapsed on the dirt ground,
After running for several miles,
Tears flowing for the first time in years,
As she held her dying child.
She weakly stood up a second time,
Trying her hardest to be composed,
Only to crumble and weep some more,
As she realised Tommy’s eyes were closed.