Love

A tragedy. A romance. A life cut short by death.

His sea green eyes all knowing, as he took his one last breath.

His sword hung by his side, lifeless as his eyes,

His ears remained unhearing, of his lovers’ anguished cries.

--

That man. That warrior. That Lord of noble blood,

Had dies to save his world, from evil’s blackened flood.

His death was not in vain, his world remained still free,

But still his lover cried, for a death that should not be.

--

Her lover. Her husband. Her one and only love,

Was dead and gone from her, dwelling now above.

He’d said before he’d left, their love would never die

Though flesh would age and rot, their spirits still would fly.

--

A poem. A ballad. A song to sing it true.

He’d said those words and more, to she his heart held true.

She wept now at the memory, and kissed his lips goodbye,

She believed the words he’d said, their love would never die.

--

A tragedy. A romance. A spirit left to fly.

The warrior was dead, but his soul was ever nigh.

She could feel him in her heart, as she lit the flaming pyre,

The golden flames of change, growing ever higher.

--

Old age. Old death. Old promises now kept.

Her laughing man would meet her, as if she’d never wept.

After all those winters, of times she’d been without he,

Now in death they’d greet, their love more than a memory.