Down among soft grasses,
kissed by the dew,
the lovers lay.
They twined about each other,
like ivy around a stone pillar,
and watched the night sky.
Their hearts beat in time,
almost in tandem,
as if they were one being.
The stars overhead looked down
and felt pity for the lovers
in their chill embrace.
The night passed,
and the stars and moon with it,
giving way for the sun.
Bright and bold,
the sun marched into the sky,
and did not deign to notice the lovers.
They lay stiff and cold,
still embracing,
even though they were dead.
The sun shone,
the day began,
but the lovers were gone.
Their souls had fled,
to a place of eternal night,
where kind stars shone.
Their bodies they left behind,
to grieving family and woeful friends,
to do with as they wished.
The bodies were buried,
the lovers mourned,
despite unanswered questions.
In the end,
the living got on with life,
and the memory of the dead faded.
Grief became regret,
became nothing at all,
just a hollow place in the heart.
And somewhere else,
the lovers still twined around each other,
beneath phantom stars.
