Standing there,

beside the family,

was a young bride.

She is dressed in black,

for her husband.

For her husband is dead.

Dead and cold.

Cold and pale.

Too pale to be her husband.

She closes her eyes,

to see his face.

His face is full of life,

full of kindness,

full of gentleness.

Ripped from her side,

she is bleeding.

But  she carries him everywhere she

goes.