One more year, the Day of the Dead
Gone the woman who shared my bed
Drifted away in November mist
Gone the woman at night I kissed
Grandma Angel fast became
Spirit with wings and heavenly fame
Walking along a gold-trimmed street
Never again with dusty feet
Brushing the dust away back then
She left on Earth a family of ten
So now we sit by the window and stare
Wondering what she’s doing up there