Dancing in the secret field of blue and yellow and gold,
A white cotton dress and bare feet have a mind of their own,
Lips of soft white roses hum a sweet song,
Cheeks of flushed perfection answer as they lift and reveal a smile so breathtaking —

It’s sure to haunt the dead,

Running in the secret field the lively colors are replaced,
Black and orange and purple thunder cries out her name,
A stained cotton dress and muddy bare feet flee in sudden terror,
Lips of bleached bloody violets plead mercy from His wrath,
Cheeks of ghostly complexion answer as they fall and reveal a fresh trail of liquid sorrow so heartbreaking —

It’s sure to lay her with the dead