Draped in black,

Holding a crimson rose in hand,

She looks out the window,

And says a silent prayer.

~

And the tears rolled down her face.

~

Ushered out of her room,

Led down the winding stairs,

Followed by a group of young children,

Holding lighted candles in their hands.

~

And the tears rolled down her face.

~

The people came from their houses,

And joined her march,

As she solemnly walked

To the land of the souls.

~

And the tears rolled down her face.

~

Followed closely behind,

By a great black box,

Trimmed in bronze and silver,

Inscribed with a name.

~

And the tears rolled down her face.

~

She arrived at a field,

-dotted with stones-

And stopped at a hole,

Vacant and dark.

~

And the tears rolled down her face.

~

The box was laid in,

And covered with dirt.

The grass was replaced,

And the crowd disappeared.

~

And the tears rolled down her face.

~

She knelt near the hole,

And kissed the stone,

Dropping the dark red rose,

For her farewell to life.

~

And the tears rolled down her face.