Kathrene Waddell 1899-1921

Kathrene Waddell 1899-1921 Truth be known, I married my man too young. Truth be known, I jumped into the warm waters of mad love, Not able to navigate its crazy rushing currents. I sought to understand the pangs of passion, The wantonness of a grown woman, While but a girl still. “Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast.” Truth be known, I passionately loved and loathed my man, But then he died and I found another… Another soothing caressing fondling man, Shhh! Dour Mr White, Dour undertaker man in black suit, He who found my inherent pulchritude On the embalming table there, Downstairs in the chemical darkness of repeating death, He who found my singing soul, My sunken yearning unseeing eyes, My cold gray kissless lips, There amidst the formaldehyde bottles, and The wilting scented daydream tulips. And oh, the way he brushed my hair! So tenderly, so lovingly!