Maggots do their work
   so well --
erasing flesh
   and features.
To look upon these
   white, parched bones,
one could never know
how beautiful --
   how divine --
this creature was.
How she walked
under starry skies,
and danced to
   midsummer,
all entranced.
How in spring she
gathered bouquets of
   dogwood --
an orange poppy
behind her ear.
And in winter,
   oh winter,
how this beauty
hid amongst the
   skeleton trees,
with snow all 'round
and dainty hands
in woolen gloves.
But it was in autumn
I loved her best.
The tawny hues
highlighting her
chestnut hair.  
Running through the
   fallen leaves,
and laughing because
she loved life so very much.
Standing beneath
the crimson trees
in a gold-velvet gown,
her eyes sparkling
and the deepest brown.

Maggots do their work
   so well --
erasing flesh
   and features.
To look upon these
white, scoured bones
one would never know
how divine --
   how beautiful --
this creature was.