She the mezzo soprano.

Had been a concert singer

Enthralling countless hearts

Encores 

and Bowing

Gratitude

But marriage tore apart.

He loved the frigid Northland

A borealis view.

He built their little cabin.

Her garden blessed it too.

But times of melancholy

Would put her back on stage

If only in imaginings.

Though wrinkles spoke of age

She'd bow to crowds

Who worshipped.

If only in the mind.

Outside a tramp would marvel

Soon leaving Camp behind.

The train tracks

Called him yonder.

Her voice lost in the wind.

(With thanks for this image from poet Robert Service.)