Epitaph For A Darling Lady Poem by Dorothy Parker
Epitaph For A Darling Lady
All her hours were yellow sands,
Blown in foolish whorls and tassels;
Slipping warmly through her hands;
Patted into little castles.
Shiny day on shiny day
Tumble in a rainbow clutter,
As she flipped them all away,
Sent them spinning down the gutter.
Leave for her a red young rose,
Go your way, and save your pity;
She is happy, for she knows
That her dust is very pretty.
Leave for her, Dorothy, a red young rose. Then go your way, and save your pity!
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12/10/2024 9:34:04 AM # 1.0.0
Leave for her, Dorothy, a red young rose. Then go your way, and save your pity!