Long Stemmed Roses

In eternal sleep the silence keeps,
Those at the wake, awake they weep;
In wooden chairs the bitterly weep,
In fedora hats and veils of black.
She screams his name in writhing pain —
The gloves of silk the tears they stain.

At the final viewing it starts to rain;
In autumn winds it starts to rain.
They eat and drink and speak of him
But never knew his suffering;
The nights he toiled with the soul embroiled,
In torment deep and anguished sleep.

The winds of change — the winds of change
Though he prayed, they never came.
In a lilac field they found him lain,
For it was the night before that he was slain;
In the throes of death with shallow breaths,
He called her name; his mother’s name.
And saw an archangel with eyes of flames

With broad white wings, descend from the heavens
And comfort him; a beautiful angel did comfort him.

He prayed:

God forgive my sins, and in your light welcome me in
As I now go back to the dust from where we all begin.

Lying in a wooden box
they pause to look at him,
Eyes closed and still,
with discolored skin.
On his folded hands spill
The tears of his brethren
And the rest of his so called kin
who really never knew him.
They never knew him.

From worn hymnals they turned
To page fifteen and started to sing;
After, two black horses pulling a
White carriage is what carried him,
leading the procession of much weeping
Tears were carried in cold winds
Through drizzle sweeping —
And at that place they lowered him;
With tearful eyes they lowered him.

With red roses with long stems;
With beautiful roses with long stems.

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