Widow's Tale

In the meadow there passed,
Many youth's foliage and flowering
Upon what is heard, ancient fairytale rhyme
And when it occurred, the final age showering
The tale didn't last in this passing of time;
The dusk now sits beside her
Entwined in dim despair,
Bestill her heart, sad as she was
For her lover was no longer there
Her ashen face in bloodless stare,
For her dreams she rocked and rocked away
But now sits still since that day;
Not a song be sung or tale be told
She showered her soul in her lover's debris,
And what was once so young, too soon had grown old,
And in the meadow there passed eternity...