The Death Of A Flame

The moon shone quietly through the leaves,
Of an old maple tree,
While a nostalgic, mournful breeze,
Walks down the street with me.

We walked this street, both you and I,
When love was bold and strong;
But then you turned and said goodbye,
And I was left alone.

Our love was fresh, like morning dew,
But on a summer’s day;
And how I wish that we both knew,
It soon would melt away.

The birds have long since ceased to tweet,
And darkness drapes the sky,
While I keep walking down the street,
With tears in each eye.

Copyright (c) 2007-2026, Rosario (Ross) D'Souza. All Rights Reserved
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