Sign

Far from here, a house forsaken

On lands of yesterday

The silence of the night has crept in

As weeping of the women

As thoughts of solitude

As sadness and as grief

In a dim deserted room

A token left on the table

A talisman, a hairbrush from his father

Oozing from the shaft

A stream of bitter sap

Dripping scarlet flow, so slow

They know it to be an emblem of death

A sign of destruction

They recognize the end of a friend

The agony of a man and son

They look at the brush

Remember the black hair

They weep a bitter sap

Oozing from the shaft

A stream of bitter sap

Dripping scarlet flow, so slow

Bristles weeping wet

To a pool of red

Dripping scarlet flow, so slow