There was black.
And there was white.

In the silence of the morning mist,
a golden halo frames a pale face,
set and stern,
stiff above a coal-black gown that
brushes against the shiny marble
in the dewy grass.
Numb,
she reads the words,
finely chiseled
into rocky gray…
new and
dead.
A tear splashes on
the cold
gravestone.