Somber Girl

A somber girl in a somber night
In the park, with a scythe
Sitting, and feeding the black birds with rice
I was walking, and came, and said �How nice!�
I said my name and she said hers
I had a seat and talked about our hurts
She was young and pleasant to talk to
And cutting grass is what we do
What she had was a saddening smile
To me it was pleasantly vile
She was wearing a white squalid dress
And me? I was wearing a gentlemen's vest
Her skin was white and pale
And her hair was hushed and stale
Her eyes were murky
No shoes, no socks, and her feet were dirty
We stared at the melancholic moon
Our heartbeats and turned into musical tunes
I wondered if I was in love
I was feeling like a crow and a dove
I held her arctic, frigid hand
It became sepulcher with her
And angels and devils lifted me and her
It became a luminous night
It became a loving plight.