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My one true love is sadly gone,
a name upon stone I dwell on;
oh, do you recall the chiffon,
of my wedding dress in Bourgogne.
The green park in France and the swan,
since your death I have been withdrawn;
yes,  I am a girl woebegone,
and I dream all the night 'till dawn.
Oh, why is the grass like a lawn;
your name etched in cold stone upon.

I visit when the flowers bloom,
and bring red roses to your tomb;
I love the scent of their perfume,
oh, rest in peace, my love, my groom.
And though lovely warm-  I am gloom,
I wilt like a flower of doom;
a bird sings-  then grief I resume,
falling is a white feather plume.
And the baby stirs in my womb;
a place waits- a nursery room.

I come when the leaves have gone dry,
and wind is making the trees sigh;
above clouds dance in the Fall sky,
it seems my long hair wants to fly.
I sang such a sweet lullaby,
when our son had to say goodbye;
I see him as a butterfly,
oh, I ask God why, why, why, why!
For what reason must baby die;
never-   do I get a reply.

I come when snow has fallen white,
the snowflakes giving me delight;
though my coat warm-   the cold does bite,
a gust takes my scarf on a flight.
I see your tomb-  your name not quite,
oh, I still dream of you at night;
will enjoy my Christmas despite,
I am so tired of the long fight.
Keeping you in my mind and sight;
I think you are in the starlight.

I come when all is green neon,
darling-   time for me to move on;
I have swept my tears with a broom,
my  mask-  happy girl all assume.
Flowers your tomb will beautify,
I plant you violets and cry;
my future darling will be bright,
for of my life I now write, write.
And I am finding my own way;
still hard  w i t h o u t   you in my day.


________________________________
October 9, 2019


Poetry/Rhyme/Woebegone Love
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1187-420-02
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.


Written for the contest, “Ludix-Rym”
sponsor, Lu Loo

First Place

*Bourgogne is a region in France near Paris famous for wine.
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