Who were you, Delphia,
And what all did you do?
Your tombstone just says you were someone’s wife,
But I’m sure there was so much more to you.
With a name as enchanting as yours,
I bet you were a real beauty, too;
I’d love to say, “I’m with Delphia.
How do you do?”
I hope folks called you by your full name
And not just Del;
That would have been such a linguistic shame
When your whole name sings like a ringing bell.
Delphia sounds so sweet, Greek, sexy, and swell,
Worthy of a lady dressed ever so well —
“Oh, look, here comes that cute Miss Delphia;
She’s as lovely as an azalea!”
Was your marriage happy?
Your headstone doesn’t say —
At least it’s not heart-shaped and sappy
As so very many are today.
Were many children born unto you?
And were they obedient and true?
Since you lived to be a full 85,
Hopefully you enjoyed grandchildren, too.
I want to think you were content
Or you couldn’t have lived so long;
Far better a life of merriment
Than just a sad and very long song.
But if your life was tragic —
A misspent, wasted pageant —
You’re now at rest forever more
With an awesome view to adore.
For just how many folks can get planted
On the side of a mountain enchanted
By a blue sky above and a green valley below
With breezy, mild summers and winters sheltered in snow?
And, while I’d love to know more,
You will remain a closed door,
An enticing name high on a hill,
Ensconced in beauty where all stands still.