Widow's Weeds
She rises each day to greet the dawn, alone and lonely
her dress is bright and yet, she wears the weeds close by her heart
In shadows near, rest the memories of the dearest face and soul,
waiting to be released, still they abide for her comfort's sake
Oh, who could ask her heart to wait, her love to starve or eyes to tear;
who could ask her life to retreat for sake of their beloved memory?
Well sated by a life's dreams and caresses, not wanting for love
or needing further sustenance, they faithfully linger
Being loved and loving, they've no fear of being lost or losing;
their hopes and dreams, are forever now for their other's profit
Those waiting in the shadows will live on; those they'd cherished
carrying them onward, onward forever held to a tender breast
This loving burden, ever so light as just a shadow would be,
though in the carrying, there's an emptiness that they once filled
That spot, that space, the aching void of compassion lost,
of tenderness and a gentle touch, reminding one that they live
The weeds and veils cover her heart, but can fill not that spot;
days and years alone will dull not the ache for comfort, nor, for love
Oh, who'd ask their own heart to wait, their love to starve or eyes to tear;
who'd cause their own life to retreat for a beloved memory's sake?
Not those who wait still treasured, forever carried onward, onward
held close to her tender heart, beneath that bright dress
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