Woebegone Love
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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since your death I have been withdrawn;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.
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2019
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