Wispy white strands
framing her ancient face
pale violet crescents under her sky eyes
Upon her shaking bony fingers
is a silver ring
that begans the story of her life...
Her white hair
used to be blonde
and her ancient face
used to be a magnet of passing glances
in those days they called her Skye
her blue eyes piercing every man's heart
but she was a lady
and found no man suitable to be hers
none deservant of her tender love
until he rolled into her overrated life
a leaf in the wind
a particle of salt in the ocean
an outlaw on the run
her mother disapproved
as well as the town
when she walked by
the whispers rolled off of their lips
like turpentine
but she couldn't help it
his hands were leather
but his lips were velvet
she was still a lady
and she told him the only way she could be his
is to put that silver ring on her finger
so they blew
from town to town
her eyes leaking clear liquid
when she heard
he got gunned down...
she returned to her town
with this in her heart
and she sits on the front porch
Wispy white strands
framing her ancient face
pale violet crescents under her sky eyes
Upon her shaking bony fingers
is the silver ring
she's never taken off
as long as that ring is on her finger
to her, he lives.