Bessie steps from the grave
Gently caressing the headstone
A single white rose placed on top
As she weeps under a willow all alone
Wearing a thick black dress
And a heavy crepe veil
Her eyes red from crying
And a face plain and pale
The black ribbons from her bonnet
Ruffle in the gentle breeze
Her eyes gazed upon a page in a book
As she sits beneath two entwined willow trees
Wrapped in a shawl she hugs it tightly
As she sits still in grief and despair
Her heart shattered into a million pieces
As the pain becomes too much to bear
A brief glimpse at immense sorrow, so well described that it takes the reader right into the scene. Superb piece, Nicola. Love, Fran xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another beautifully mournful tale of Victorian sorrow. Another triumph. Jxxx