The figure
- Winter has set in and the hour is late
- the icy wind whissles through a high iron gate
- behind the gate a pack of dogs begin to furiously bark
- at a tall slim figure walking all alone in the dark.
- With a long black coat and her hair such a mess
- it is a woman with her head hung to the ground under a mountain of stress
- So deep in thought she travels along so slow
- all the people notice her but none say hello
- instead they just stop whisper and stear
- at this deeply burdend women who fulls their hearts with such fear
- She keeps walking along the path untill no one is in sight
- and all the houses are far behind her and the moon is her only light
- All alone she falls so slowly to her knees
- trembling and weeping but without making a sound
- she weeps in anger with such a broken heart
- as she drops to her knees to the froasty cold ground
- Soon darkness is all around her and snow falls from the sky
- covering her like a blanket as she bitterly begins to cry
- unable to feel the blistering cold as she is so numbed by dismay
- then by early next morning the young woman had past away
- and soon on a golden candle lite altar is where her body would lay
- wrapped in a white cloth
- from her pain she had been taken away
BY CHRISTOPHER LOUSICH
- copyright to christopher lousich ©2006 (Unicode U+00A9) Copyright Act 1994
