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Widow's weeds

She rises each day to greet the dawn, alone and lonely
her dress is bright and yet, she wears the weeds close by her heart
 
In shadows near, rest the memories of the dearest face and heart, 
waiting to be released, still they abide for her comfort's sake

Oh, who could ask her heart to wait, her love to starve or eyes to tear;
who could ask a life to retreat for sake of their beloved memory?

Being loved and loving, they've no fear of being lost or losing;
their hopes and dreams, are forever now for another's profit 

Well  sated by a life's dreams and caresses, not wanting for love 
or needing further sustenance,  they faithfully stand by

The waiting ones in shadows will live on, those they cherished
carrying them onward, onward forever held to tender breast

This loving burden, ever so light as just a shadow would be,
though in the carrying, there's felt a space that they once filled 

That spot, that space, the emptiness of compassion lost,
a tenderness and a gentle touch reminding one that they live

The weeds and veils cover the heart, but fill not that spot, 
the days and years alone dull not the ache for comfort, nor, for love    

Who'd tell their own heart to wait, their love to starve or eyes to tear;
who'd cause their own life to retreat for a beloved memory's sake?

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