Down comes a lady
With auburn hair
Falling to her side
Brown eyes alike
The embers of quartz
Burning around her neck
From grave lips
Silence speaks
The story on her mind
Dirty boots come
One at a time
Upon the steps
To meet everyone
Who cares to look
And be still
Those who breathe
To reflect and recall
Her name and place
Those who care to see
The flowers hiding
In her tangled lace
Those may call out
For a fresh glass
From her shelf
Those may reach out
For the rich wine
From her hand
Those guests know
How to love her
And when to leave
