Red to the Funeral

She would have worn black to the funeral,
But she never really loved him
So she wore red
Because red was her favorite color.
"After all," she thought,
"Shouldn't I wear what makes me comfortable?"
Maybe she was right.
People started to talk.
They labled her as a wild woman
One of those wild, unfaithful women,
Which she was not.
She thought that since she was comfortable
People would respect her
For taking the loss so well.
But sadly, not so.
"She must have been unfaithful," some said.
"She must be some sort of witch.
She must have no heart."
"Perhaps she even killed him."
Said others.
When the funeral ended and the burial commenced,
The lady in red went home.
"I never really loved him,"
She told a few.
But no one believed her
Until she wore red to the funeral
"That wicked woman!" she heard someone say
The day after the funeral.
They didn't know the lady in red
Nor did they know she was listening.
"I know!" the other answered,
"Imagine the nerve!
I wonder how many men she had beside!"
The lady in red dismissed their thoughts
and set out to clear her mind.
But she soon found it was the talk of the town.
She couldn't handle it!
They said she hated him!
She loathed him!
She killed him!
This was not so!
She simply did not love him
As much as she once had thought
In despair, the lady in red
Put on her blackest dress,
Climbed to the highest mountain,
And dropped to join the man she did not love.
"That poor woman!" the people then said.
"She must have loved him so much
She couldn't handle the pain of his death!"
And everyone wore black to her funeral.