My Lady of the Auburn

She has not died from me, with her hair and eyes of auburn.
She lives still within my memory, my lady of the auburn.

She is walking, dancing there, laughing in the sunlight,
Tossing back the gleaming fall of hair, my lady of the auburn.

She has died to others, but what do they know or care?
She had no true brothers, she who was my lady of the auburn.

They do not speak of her, as if that could ease the pain.
But still her ghost will shimmer, my lady of the auburn.

She has no parents worth the name, my love and my lady.
They flinch from her as from flame, my lady of the auburn.

They keep the photographs locked away, and turn 
The conversation down if I say, my lady of the auburn,

Your name, or breathe one word of what you meant to me.
They would the sword sheathe, my lady of the auburn,

By burying it in their own breasts, and damned be the rest.
They must destroy the peace that rests, my lady of the auburn,

In my mind when I think of the days before your very last.
No poison of fatal disease did you drink, my lady of the auburn.

You walked and danced until the very last, hit by a car.
You did so suddenly that pain glanced, my lady of the auburn,

Through me like lightning striking from the brilliant sky.
The loss was too sudden for my liking, my lady of the auburn.

But I will not compound it with silence, which does treason
To your memory; in speaking defiance, my lady of the auburn,

I will make them remember you, and remember you as auburn;
They will not December you, O my glorious lady of the auburn.