Clouds

'Twas in quiet days of summer,
I lay sleeping with my love.
Under the oak, drunk off of sun,
We were as pure as any snow-white dove.

Thousands of promises were made,
Thousands of dreams were shared.
Dreams for the future, dreams for life,
We stayed strong, although unprepared.

Hours after hours spent with the other,

Days became months, and months flew past.
And still under the oak we laid and let time be,
Pouring out our love like each day was the last.

But we never noticed the clouds.
Slowly, with the grey, came war and tears.
The war called unto my love, beckoning him to join.
I lived off of sorrows and fears.

'Twas bright no more,
Winter stole from eveyone.
Our tree died, from cold's severe blows,
My heart was shattered for being without my Sun.

Alone, I wept, I screamed, I prayed.
I needed assurances of his life.
But no words came, I pined and pined,
A soldier's broken-hearted, young wife.

Time kept passing, and still I was alone.
It was warm summer once more.
I visited our tree, it was split in half.
Gone was my love that I used to adore.

'Twas in the crumbled days of summer,
I lay dreaming of my dead love.
Looking on the oak, under the beating sun,
I bore the image of a crimson-stained dove.