He sings his sword wildly
In the heat of the March night
In the passion of the moment
He knows he hurt her
He knows she still cares
Standing in the moonlight
Four months later

They hide from each other
She stands by her window
The window open
The moon burns her delicate skin Her silver tears,
She dries herself
Still run cold
Still run deep
Why should she care about him

He hurt her
She walked out
He grips his sword
She dries her tears
He Swings one last time
She walks closer to the window
He slices the tree, The sword Brakes
The room is empty

Any Comments About the poem? Hosted by www.Geocities.ws