Death Of The Lovers Poem by tiyler durden

He came to her in the night,
His eyes gleamed, and shined
His hand caressed her soft skin
Near the firelight.

He came again in the day
His smile broad
His lips touched her tender mouth
Near the carriage bay.

He married her during that year
His hands so strong
Clasping her tender fingers
Near the fountain where.

He cared for her when she grew old
His aged hand holding a blanket
Covering her wrinkled skin
Warding off the cold

They died together buried there
Their bones now brittle
Separated in two cold boxes
Longing for each others stare.