Last night up on the hill

Last night when her voice woke me,
last night when I was still,
she sang in the dim moonlight,
last night upon the hill.

Her voice was ever soft,
yet hid a bitter chill.
She hid a secret in her eyes,
under skies upon the hill.

And the sad song of her hearts despair
cried out through the warm spring air,
it echoed through the willow trees,
through the starry skies and the midnight breeze.

Then I held her in my arms,
and watched her sing to me sweet song.
Her hair was long, her face was thin,
and held the sweetest little grin,
but as she closed her eyes that night,
a tear fell from her chin.

Her eyes were wild, yet still held
the child that I knew long ago.
Why she came to the hill that night,
to the place where I was dwelling,
was still a mystery to me,
she just said "I'm not telling."

She held me closer to her loving heart,
like never she had before, and sang of times spent
together alone, walking along the shore.

I sank into a enchanted sleep,
still not knowing why she came,
and dreamt of her and I that night,
still hiding all the pain.

Reminiscing past times together,
of happiness without end,
but painful past crept up again,
and happiness did descend.

Then she stopped my darkened dream,
and read my pain-filled eyes.
She said, "I love you," kissed me, smiled,
then looked up to the sky.

And in a wistful voice she said;
"I came to the top of the hill tonight,
to be with you and hold you tight,
to say I'm sorry for all the pain,
for leaving you lost and in the rain,
but now I know it's much too late,
and I'm sorry, so sorry,
but this is my fate.
I hurt you, though I really meant you no harm,
and tonight …I've come to die in your arm."