Bringing Mae Flowers

The morning of the death of democracy,

Fresh snow glowed on the mountain tops.

The sun rose bright in a pastel sky

As birds and geese flew peacefully by,

The beautiful day was a cruelly-felt lie–

A mockery of our mourning.

On the morning of the death of democracy,

Heaven and Earth kept on turning. 

Though women wore black and men wore red,

And the Lady of Liberty bowed down her head,

No one knowing what lay ahead–

On the mourning of the death of democracy.