Windy, cold morning.
Blowing on love's past.
A tired tombstone.
Has begun to crack.
As it begins to shatter.
So does the surrounding too decay.
Trapped by the memories.
Which it failed to save.
Broken, and forgotten.
It's inscription weeps.
In loneliness it stands.
Hugged by the wind.
Never escaping the feeling.
It's appearance tends to hide.
Left to remain.
Cold and grave.