Shrouds

You cloak yourself in grey shrouds
Yet what lies beyond is far purer;
All intent on smiles in and around
Yet you're rarely really full of it.

My heart is proud when I watch you
Heavy when I can't bring it to you;
Lost years ago and still lost now
Perhaps never to be found again...

Unless that little picket is broken
And you leap across, arms open;
To embrace what lies before you
And to open your heart and believe

That those shrouds are not for you.
They don't belong on you, not ever;
The Red cloak makes everything new
And you have been made worthy

Of the highest Honour.