Over the rim of her wine glass,
Soft coral red lips were parted,
Singing songs only angels could,
Singing a requiem so melodious.
She sang about their departures,
To exploring lands unbeknownst to men.
She sang about their deeds,
About lives lived out as dreams.
She sang about the souls lost,
Buried in depths of our minds;
And sang about the flesh gone,
Back to the womb of Mother Earth.
copyright © Winepoetess 2016