True Love

From just below the towns horizon,
Sleeps the greatest, love yet known,
Beneath the sod, where people trod,
Rest’s true loves catacomb.

A monument, to love gone wrong,
Stands strait at true loves head,
So all will know, the tombstone shows,
Why this true love is dead.

The saddest song, here lies alone,
Inside a marbled tomb,
Encased inside its chamber,
Housing memories in its room.

The ladies name was Bonnie Mae,
Who suffered this great pain,
She lost her child, who never lived,
To even get his name.

This lady mourned, her child still born,
Never to breathe a breath,
The lady to, would follow soon,
Her child unto his death.

It was to be, the number three,
To die upon this day,
The father cried, and so he died,
Beside his Bonnie Mae.

The tombstone reads, for all to see,
The inscription tells their plight,
The child still born, the mother mourned,
And the father took his life.

True love birthed, upon this earth,
That could not live to be,
And so they died, while many cried,
Who was left to bury three.