The Whispers In Her Ear
Her face washed in tears,
she followed the shadow
to the door at the front of the stairs,
one single candle burned on the window pane,
and love would call,
she stared briefly at a gleaming picture
of the Virgin Mary hanging on the wall,
she then walked in and saw her body
laying on the day bed,
the whispers in her ear
was of the dead,
but she wouldn’t fear,
her pretty face was already hard with death,
and she moved slowly as if to catch her breath,
her love for a young man
was like that of Romeo and Juliet,
she knew she loved him when their eyes met,
but there families would fight,
losing the very sight,
and her body would lay quietly,
in the still of that haunting night,
beside her lay a very pretty hat, red felt,
with matching shoes and a belt,
sadness would coat,
as blood would drip slowly
on her thin, white throat,
she fought back more tears,
or at least she did her best,
as her hands were folded peacefully
on her breast.
© 2011 Frank Atanacio