She wore her widow’s weeds,
black as the night she lost him.
She uncovered the deeds,
green as his face when she caught him.
She remembered the rage,
red as the knife that stopped him.
She turned the page,
blanc as the new life before her.
She wore her widow’s weeds,
black as the night she lost him.
She uncovered the deeds,
green as his face when she caught him.
She remembered the rage,
red as the knife that stopped him.
She turned the page,
blanc as the new life before her.
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