La Paloma (The Dove)

Gladys, I have mourned for you more than you can know,
Your lifeblood running rivulets 'neath skin as pale as snow
I've watched the sinews on your hands grown taut like strings tuned fine,
On an aged harp still quivering though its song was out of time.
In silence have I kept my peace till it was your time to go.

Gladys, I have prayed to God each time I held your hand,
To help us keep our minds afloat, to help us understand
Who we were, and who we are, (the line grows thin between)
But your mind became a seashore- effacing what has been;
Each memory slow-washed away, like drawings in the sand.

Gladys, sister of my youth; dear, beloved friend,
'Twas two of us last standing, refusing yet to bend,
But I have watched the light die out from stouter candles tall,
And you my slender, willowed one, of sudden seem so small,
Against the deep approaching dark; oh nearer comes the end-

But still sometimes I listen, and I hear as yesterday 
A soft piano jingling in that tune you loved to play
And the dove takes off on waters skimming o'er the sunlit sea
And I can hear your laughter; your voice calling soft to me,
Gladys, heavy thoughts aside- we've had our merry days!

So now I'll wear my shawl of black, because the wind blows cold,
(Strange how when we're young we never think we will grow old)-
I can't recall what I was saying. Was I talking to a friend?
Ah yes. I was reliving, Gladys- oh, I can't recall the end-

But Gladys, I would rather not come see before you go,
The fine blue veins beneath your lids, your shroud as white as snow.
We lived our lives as given, now the race is almost run,
You'll forgive me if I'm tired; it's hard to be the only one,
Gladys, I have wept for us more than you can know.