Autumn leaves in warm earth tones vale upon the new mound of soil. The leaves appear demur on the soil adorned with fresh florals. She who has spent nearly three score with in life until a year ago, has now joined the he in afterlife. Most have begun to mill away, eager to start the slow shedding of bereavement that begins with the repast, but she lingers a spell.
I watch her eyes, both mournful and misty.
And I watch as she, a morbid Noah, mentally gathers the dates of the ancestral pairings interned. I know she sees in the family line none have gone more than two years without their hearts in life beside them. The dichotomy of such beauty in sadness. She fears it, yet, I see she embraces the seemingly inevitable as we finally leave.
To her, death is quite romantic.
dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Prosery – Bob Dylan
Tonight at dVerse, Björn Rudberg (brudberg) hosts and would like for us to write a Prosery piece which includes the line:
“To her, death is quite romantic”
It is from “Desolation Row” by Bob Dylan, from his 1965 record “Highway 61 Revisited”.
Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose up of up to or exactly 144 words,
Including the given line from the poem.