The Lady with Sad Eyes

The Lady with Sad Eyes
Christopher Bogart

From the first moment I saw her,
As a very young child,
She was to me
The Lady with Sad Eyes.

Why were they sad, I wondered?

She was dressed all in black,
Save for one white gardenia
Pinned to the black cloth
That covered her breast.

She held in her hands
A bouquet of white flowers,
Save for one black carnation.
But what of that?

Was she going to a wedding?
A funeral?

I often pondered that mystery,
Only later to learn
That it was both.

Tied, in her teens, to a child
Made a necessity of marriage,
And a misery of life,

She died not long after.

While I could easily avoid her gaze,
What I could not avoid
Was that same sense of sadness
That shone
In my mother’s blue eyes.