As the crows flew by
Turing the first light
Pitch black as dead night
For Love had died
And suddenly Hope and Dreams
Weren’t as divine as they seemed
And the bluebells were weeping
And Death came creeping
To see the loss of such beauty
The Sun crawled back
Behind the clouds and cracks
To hide his tears
And He called upon the birds
To sing their fairest song
For Love’s live he had to prolong
But futile were his attempts
And Death loomed, with a grin
To take body of this lost feeling