On the resting knoll
Made of fallen Fall leaves
Rummaged between dirt
Scattered hand prints of past
Stands naked the bare tree
Where He silently sits at last

Neath' the weathered sky
He yearly cried
For the months do not matter
When one is in heartbreak

Not the moon can cure you
Nor the sun and its rays
Not the wind through its chill
Or the coming of a rain

Here in heartbreak
Here in mourning
Here where affections whisper
Does not break like the morning

He rest in still calm
As if nothing is wrong
He sits and he waits
For a change of ill fate