Dressed To Curl
At one whom none who knew would pass
Confounded by the leaded lights
And fearful of unending nights
The lonely mourner stands
Not for her the crimson hat
Not for her the casual chat
Staring glumly through the murk
At two who in the shadows lurk
Colluding in the cloister dim
With collar up and downturned brim
And grimly-wringing hands
Not for them the cosy fire
Not for them the lambent lyre
| Contributors: | TG, P, Roland. |
| Poem finished: | 29th August 2003. |