Burial Shroud On A Dull Winter Night Poem by Rosetta -

It's quiet outside.
A car rushes by, and she holds her gown tight.
She wonders if she will ever remember this moment;
Life is short for now.

She stands parallel to a home;
Not quite sad, but lonely.
She's grateful for the lonesome silence.

She had a task;
It is pitiless and not worth her time.
She's not sure if anything is, these days.

She takes a breath;
She shrouds herself, and soon
She thinks she will be no more.

She lusts for her idol,
Sylvia Plath by her side.
If only she could see her now.

A long pause between the wind,
And soon the gusts slow down time;
The sky is lighter now, but the trees are barren.
Sylvia died in February.

She thinks to herself;
'What if God
Meant for me to understand her like a second personality? '

She likes to pretend that she is Sylvia.