Gray shadows fall upon my face

Here within this sacred place;

The stone so cold, and roughly hewn

Beneath this waning winter moon

The air is thin and so am I

My heart is heavy, I start to cry

 

Each letter of her chiseled name

Is lit as though with golden flame

My fingers trace the shallow grooves

As though with touch I could disprove

She is no more, and I am less

Without her voice and soft caress

 

Bereft and full of memories

I rise up from on bended knee

I place a rose upon her grave

Each petal but a kiss I’ve saved

And slowly do I turn for home

Only now, I walk alone.