Gloria,she sat in her bunglow,
surrounded by flowers and trees
Her garden an enchanting place,
a haven of bird and bees

often i see her that way
and then i see her now
she seems on different pathway
can't relate the two somehow

She was the life of a party,
the first one to laugh and cry
The starter of all things naughty
some one who wiped tears dry

And then i see her sitting
lifeless as one can be
surrounded by women weeping
them she could hardly see

was this somehow her shadow?
accept this, somehow i can't
this women in white,this widow
is she really my aunt?