Black is the Color (after tradition)

Black is the color of my true love’s hair,
his face now hidden in despair,
eyes turned aside, hands folded in--
I wonder why and where he’s been.
I speak his name—but does he hear
the love I hold, the loss I fear?
My dreams are fading like the day--
he will not go, he will not stay.
Red is the color he’s wrapped around
the form unmoving on the ground--
if he would smile, if he would tell--
I know him not under this spell.
And should I leave to mourn and weep?
or should I stay, a vigil keep?
The night is long, the shadows dark
that fill my tears and choke my heart.
Black is the color of my true love’s hair,
his face now hidden in despair,
eyes turned aside, hands folded in--
I wonder why and where he’s been.