I cup the rose petals in my hands
And gently blow them into the breeze
They drift like drops of love's spilled blood
Over land, over sea
Over the dark, cold stone at my feet
Brushing against the carven letters
Emblazoned in marble for all to see.

The rose-filled air tugs back my hair
As I gently brush the tear from my eye
And crouch down by that lonely grave
Lay my hand on the stone
Gently run a finger along the cruel, bare earth
And feel terror at being alone.

Up in the trees the birds lament
And the sea beneath the cliffs is quiet and still
As if remenescing on all the times
When we left our footprints on the beach
And explored the seweed-strewn caves
Now I walk alone in sorrow
While you lie alone in your grave.