The widow’s pearl cradles on the black broche, Just a tiny detail of the funeral-like dress, With a miraculous glitter mess, The widow has dark fashion, Though she isn’t seen on the water mirror, Her pearl shines magnificently against it, And the dust, which passes by… Radiates the light throughout the sky, The pearl shines it’s ghostly light, Through clear or through fog, The pearl: the widow’s signature sight, The pearl: the haunted delight, It appears as round and as a coin, But its looks deceives the mind, For there are massive craters you will find, Of envious, wannabe, specks… Crashing - in attempt to destroy its beauty, But as the dress is stained by blue, The pearl shall slowly disappear, Until the widow comes back, When the dress blossoms with black.