She was the beauty of the South;
Now a spring equinox to shine.
      It was all hers:
The cows grazing in the distance,
     The old black tools of toiled trouble.

Her grace a twang from her dear mouth,
The love of Christ was hers and mine.
     Flowers to burrs -
Lord! - she was more than existence…
Her purpose was sure and humble.

Hers are the Heavens to make runs;
Her wings expanding of fine lace.
    Sun shining so?
Shine at the command of God’s word,
Fly… fly high beautiful spirit!

Fly high to leave behind your sons,
Never to forget your dear grace.
   For this I know:
Of her kind last words I have heard,
She told me to come back and visit…

You shake and tremble inside,
As howling pierces through the stain glass.
For you have ran from the devil’s ride,
His born demon growling after your ***…

As you have made it through the chapel door,
You pray the lock keeps you safe and warm.
Your soul shakes and rattles to the core,
Around you your love is torn.

What is left of candlelight,
Forces you to fret among the pews.
For no one can save your soul tonight,
Bleeding outside your lover’s heart he chews…

Thunder strikes the cross to fall and crack down,
You choke and pray your dear rosary.
Your screams beg to awaken the town,
Asleep they are, Wolfberry.

So sweet the taste a wolf wants,
And sweet the taste the wolf will get too.
Scratching and clawing the wood it haunts,
Just a couple more seconds to get through.

Tackled down the door revealing the moon,
The death of darkness has fixed red eyes.
Your blood to the beast is not immune,
He latches on your demise…