47.5 - Two Better Days

Just an extra, since I’m not too sure if a verse like this has much to do with God.

Can’t say there were two better days
Than when she entered and left my life.
By spring we danced, by winter she died.
A part of me was pleased.
Her yapping caused me strife.

When a young woman’s first married,
She’s a pretty yeller sure,
But age makes an old yeller,
And age removes the smoke of pleasure.
Closer to death, the soul has less to hide.

Still, it was strange. I cried. Don’t know why,
Since I’ve thought about it for a long time.
Car crash, assassins, the flu perhaps,
Ever since I saw that first grey hair on her head.

Suppose I wasn’t as pleased as I thought.
Such a poor flaw of mine.
In life I see only bad times.
Only when they die do I see the good.