She put on her make-up, her dress and her watch
She pulled up her socks and put up her hair
And in her hair, she placed the umbrella

The small green umbrella
had at first been a joke.
There in her cocktail
on their very first date.
He had taken it from the ice,
setting it above her left ear.

She walked out the door, down the driveway, to the car
She pulled out from the drive, and into the street
And in the rearview mirror, she caught the umbrella

She had worn it on each
of their dates after that.
Through all the long years.
Through all the happiness,
and sometimes the fights.
It always kept them connected.

She entered the building made of soft colored stone
She met with the nun, who helped her with the practice procession
Through her walks down the aisle, the sister noticed, but didnt ask, about the umbrella

She had worn it the night
that he had proposed,
just as she would
on the day they would wed;
and the next ten years after that.

She saw more cars pull up, more friends and family arrive
She met with them all, and spoke with them softly
They were all accustomed, of course, to the fifteen year old, faded, umbrella

Ten years after the wedding
she still had the keepsake.
She had even been wearing it
on the most tragic of days.
The day of the accident,
the one she survived.

So she walked down the aisle, and arrived center stage
She smiled at the calm face of the man that she loved
She then reached up to her hair, and inside his casket she placed

The Small Green Umbrella