In the overgrown church yard
a lone sunflower grows,
giving an orange glow
to the grey headstones.
Left to fade in the rains
of so many unmarked days.
Names no longer visible,
just a barely discernible
stone silhouette,
amongst the grass forest
that towers around.
And the visitor
She sits, beside.
Weeping. Through foggy eyes.
Only noticeable
when the moon sits high,
when you turn your head to the side,
just a flicker of her faded figure
stains your mind.
A shift in the light,
you may think,
a trick of the mind.
A shadow forsaken,
but her face
cannot be mistaken.
She sits. Patient as a tree,
taking its time to grow high,
no rush, for it knows it will
one day reach the sky.
She sits,
wishing to see him
once again,
but it's been centuries.
She has sat in this churchyard cemetery,
and not a glimmer of his smile.
Not a shimmer of those kind eyes.
Just lonely.
under so many changeable skies.
But
Tonight, the moon sees her,
and casts her light
slightly to the right,
hitting the sunflower
to make it shine bright.
And there beside
the sunflower stands
a man. Waiting.
An eternity waiting.
The grey lady sees his eyes
but he doesn’t see her.
The man shifts
his gaze just enough
for the light
to bring her into view,
after centuries
their story can resume,
his smile
outshines the moon,
they fade together
into the night, like mist in the rain.
Thanks for reading
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