The trees stood perfectly still,
Their leaves rustling in the whispering breeze,
The silvery moon beams, fallen on the dark grave stones,
And a figure of a pale young girl was shone
She'd wait there for hours,
waiting for
his scent to embrace her
his badges to glisten in the moonlight,
his foot steps to reach her,
with words taking her to a perfect word
while his fingers were locked in hers
And his words to make her smile
They used to meet here always,
Where no one could here what they spoke,
Except the still grave stones, the ghostly trees,
Or those birds who shrieked by and by,
They used to drift into their own world of fantasy,
Her thoughts were sunk within his words,
their quiet laughter heard by and by
And their hearts were filled with new hopes
She'd still stand there waiting,
Until the end of time,
Infront of his still grave stone,
Where his patriotic body lay beneath,
She'd plead the screaming birds
To stop and answer her cries,
And the soothing moon beams,
To come down and wipe her tears
But they were ignorant
And they did not hear
She'd still stand there waiting,
For his footsteps to reach her,
For his badges in glisten in the moonlight,
For his scent to embrace her,
His Fingers locked in her, with
his words to give her a smile....
