There she stood in shoes of Red
Dressed in Black!
Broad brimmed hat!
Respect for the departed
Mournful amongst the mourners
Husband once tall and proud
Now on knee bent and bowed
Dark cloud overhead
Raining on mourners and the dead
There she stood in shoes of Red
There she stood in shoes of Red
At the back, not with mourners led
Walked away when all was said
And waited to hold her lover, back in bed
Her eyes were glistening
From prayers given, and listening
Head bowed in thoughts of her own
Maybe in mind to atone
Whilst standing all alone.
There she stood in shoes of Red.
There she stood in shoes of Red
Amongst the living, and the dead
Roaming amongst headstones
Tears piecing earth, down to their bones.
Pale face tilts towards Heaven
Defying Satans temptation
Questioning life's intention
Gracefully her dress brushes epitaphed inscription
Silently walking
There she was in shoes of Red
A poet is a poet even while attending the funerals, this is an example of your keen observation in silent thoughts...
You make smile Poet! ! ! I swear i expected a more discreet red! ! ! Discreet comments for a beautiful poem! ! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Robert, death, burial is such a basic part of life we all are able to reach into our own loss are own ceremonies.