to each their own

death walks with sorrow as his shadow

where was the world

on the day that you died?

the ladies in white sang.

the ladies in black cried.

to each their own,

their own mourning ways.

to each their own,

their own passing of days.

and as i sit alone

in the cold of the world,

i wonder what ever became

of those ladies.

those ladies who mourned you

as you passed from this world.

i imagine...

the ladies in black

ran away,

with skirts of ebony silk

dazzling and flashing behind them

as crows flew

blackening the skies,

leaving the world dark.

darker than night.

i imagine...

the ladies in white

sauntering through gardens

throwing white rose petals

at their feet,

so that they may walk pure.

in their skies,

there were doves,

bringing peace to the world.

in the center of these worlds,

sat you.

you,

pondering the endless possibilities

of life beyond death.

you,

in your starched white shirt

and creased black pants.

you,

caught in the middle of two worlds.

two worlds colliding.

you were born of these worlds.

and now...

you were dead in these worlds.

i imagine...

your thoughts.

the gypsy women

that flash their smiles through your head.

they know the way to your heart.

i imagine...

you staring up at the moon.

you staring up at the stars.

you staring up at the sun.

you staring up at the clouds.

daydreaming.

just as i am now.