All Women Do Is The Dishes? Poem by elysabeth faslund

Only color left in these mountains is brown.
Like dirt piled on the open grave's side
While services are held.

Raspberry, purple, orange shades...
Mountain sun colors...forgotten. Disappeared.
Leaves gave up, falling back to feed the
Roots of trees.


Don't be sad to fade and die...
You had years of color, dazzling the passerby
Until she stopped on your doorstep
Forever.

Men take fading so much harder than women.
Never had as many colors as us.
But, they had the world...few of us did.
All our married lives were partly devoted to
Ease the passing...
Promising to meet them
On the other side...
And there...we'll both have
All the colors
Of the world
We'll own.
Together.