Roses red and violets blue

September 22, 2011
Roses red and violets blue
the raven sings a solemn tune.
Black of feather.
Black of heart.
Perched upon a graveyard arch.
Moonlight wane.
Moonlight wax.
Illuminate the beaten path,
marked with skeletal trees.
Perched upon a naked branch,
the raven sings.
Ebony veils of silk and lace,
made to conceal a widow's face.
In hand she holds,
roses red and violets blue.
Meant to bid her love adieu.
Seasons come.
Seasons pass.
A widow's sorrow never lasts.
Leaves fall.
Snow thaws.
Flowers bloom.
Headstones once adorned with petals,
and their redolent perfume.
Are no longer strewn with,
roses red and violets blue.

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