In memory of my close friend, T.G.
I would have cursed all of Port Author’s town
If I had darkened the clear Texas moon
To change the fate of that November’s gloom
When bereaved loved ones had to lie you down
Dressed in your untimely burial gown.
Before you had a chance to fully bloom,
T’was love that delivered to you such doom,
But love will be sure to restore your crown.
Your husband is the one who breathes in shame
And his marred conscience will loosen what’s sane,
But his crime is not where you dwell.
For visions of you dancing were not slain
Nor were sounds of sweet laughter that remain
To live on more beautifully than you fell.
Shawn R. Jones (2008)