She wanders graveyards
Weaves through headstones
To and Fro

in the morning's early hours
to the cold graveyard
she'll go

far from dark or morbid
She just likes to read the names
Imagines lives and lovers and cities
Behind dates on marble graves

Quite often she will worry
For the souls beneath her feet
She fears for those forgotten
Those she never got to meet

She does not weep
But for them she wishes
For all those deserving, she thinks,
A second life could be given

"Taken too soon,"
She reads from the grave

Words she's never found so true

Until she had nothing
But a picture
trapped in a shattered glass frame

"I won't let it happen.
Not now.
Not to you.
(How could anyone let a soul like yours be forgotten?)
...
I think that the earth would stop spinning
If I ever stopped missing you."