she delicately wove a tale
for the echoes in the churchyard
because the sounds that words of love make
as they flutter on the cold grey stones
make such a lovely loneliness
the heart bleeds its tears openly
but the mind keeps its tears close at hand

but she assured me that she was aware
of how deep the water could run
as she waded into the hearts river
her great blue coat caught like in a vast wind
did trail behind and marked her passing
with a stain upon the waters like words of love on a dark heart
she beckoned with her hand without meaning to mock
i dragged the grey stone to the verge
and let my words fall
but they had a silence i could not comprehend

she had come to heal
she had come to see reason
or declare the innocence of its opposite
she weaved the echoes well into the stillness of the night
i had come to see her in the image of bearing beauties
come to see the true key of tales end turned
but she has no end to the tale
she simply beckons you on with simple gesture
because she adores the dance of her spanish boots
on the cold grey stone
and the words of love as they flutter
on the cold grey stone