lalaine
07-09-2007, 10:11 AM
LADY IN RED
She comes in the midst of a Sunday ritual
Stooping in a flashy red dress as usual
A wooden stick she helds to lead her
A spot she chooses at the edge of a pew.
She settles down and sits upright
Reaches from her bossom
Securely wrapped in a cloth of red and white
A white-beaded rosary.
She pulls out what seems like the size of a playing card
With images of the Sacred Heart.
The plastic-covered scapular
She smothers with kisses
Before she finally wears it.
From a black bag that she carries
A black veil she pulls out and covers her head
She starts mumbling her usual litany.
So comfortable, so contented
Her distorted figure doesn't bother her
Attentively and piously she listens
To the preacher's sermon
As she murmurs word of praise.
This Lady in Red
Every Sunday I see
The same dress, the same spot
The same ritual
My eyes are glued everytime I see her
I am entranced with her strength, her faith
And just by her Existence.
She comes in the midst of a Sunday ritual
Stooping in a flashy red dress as usual
A wooden stick she helds to lead her
A spot she chooses at the edge of a pew.
She settles down and sits upright
Reaches from her bossom
Securely wrapped in a cloth of red and white
A white-beaded rosary.
She pulls out what seems like the size of a playing card
With images of the Sacred Heart.
The plastic-covered scapular
She smothers with kisses
Before she finally wears it.
From a black bag that she carries
A black veil she pulls out and covers her head
She starts mumbling her usual litany.
So comfortable, so contented
Her distorted figure doesn't bother her
Attentively and piously she listens
To the preacher's sermon
As she murmurs word of praise.
This Lady in Red
Every Sunday I see
The same dress, the same spot
The same ritual
My eyes are glued everytime I see her
I am entranced with her strength, her faith
And just by her Existence.