RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Dangling by many small threads, life in it's embroidered
lace gown sits delicately on a balance beam.
If a thread so much as blows a little to the left or right
it's whole existence is threatened with death.
Not fearing anything, but the final fall, because it is
unknown, everyone tries desperately to put it off - away
Suffering silently, only now and again, each person only
thinks of death when someone else's is near at hand.
Sorrowfully crying, tears soon after a funeral, melt away,
leaving no reminders until the next time it comes to touch
their lives, carrying it's black roses.
Twilight draws near and dark drapes are pulled closed -
Letting in no light, death stays hidden in a shrouded,
black mystery for life.
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Comments about this poem (Black Roses by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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