Behind the hill the stagecoach paused
Then left her there alone,
A tiny speck upon the land
A thousand miles from home.
She hurried to the single tree
Where they had pledged to meet.
Two hearts were carved into the bark;
The taste of rain was sweet.
And on the oak she saw the words
That made her come so far,
Words so rare he must have found them
Written on a star.
And silently a snowflake fell
Cold and blown by wind
That whispered like a thousand souls
Who'd known and lost a friend.
She waited there 'til day was dusk
And sunset reigned above.
She listened for the sound of horses
And still believed in love.
And then the flaming crutch was gone
And hopes and dreams grew dim.
The snow was falling harder now
But still no sight of him.
And angel white caressed her hair
And tears welled in her eyes;
Her tiny hands clawed at the drifts
And trembling death's disguise.
And weeks had passed before he came
And found her resting place.
So sad he'd only come in time
To bury fallen lace...
This one is excellent, with a well-told story and skillful phrases. So tragic, but I liked it from beginning to end!
Connie
in quiet style but with fine underlying power.
And the title's so apt.
John