There is a gravestone of black marble and gold, now overgrown by brambles and briers so  I am  told ,
near a willow tree that lends it's branches ,
to my ear ,
to remember those , like I , who have been buried here.                                


For there is a tree with a lock and a key ,
enshrined within its bark
For that was my intended who once I saw upon my  bended knee , for it was  she who I saw , who  sat upon that tree ,
thinking only  of me
just so she could see , a reflection of me .
Yet all I could see was a lock and a key ,
embalmed in a tree ,
and a ring that was lost
inside  a faceless clock,  which one day the hours could not mend ,
for it was taken by crows , or it could have been ravens I suppose ?                                 , Who took away its hands,

to mend , in tall trees in  workshops  far away ,
where young lovers dreams are never
what they seemed
Well thats what I think the bird said.
as they carried away its numbers
and hands to mend ,


dropping them off ,
to be found in a box ,
for loved ones
to find ,
when ever they draw near ,
where the black roses and lillies ,
like soft snow flakes ,
appear.


And there is a fire place with a warm smiling face ,
that gives me a hug
with hot milk ,and a mug .
and a whistling kettle on a stove .
And if you should call
for a natter or some warm toast and butter ,
let yourself in as the key has been lost ,
in the lock of the clock ,
before there came a calling of crows ,
or it could have been ravens I suppose?



And so Weeply Deeply,  now  close your eyes and count to three,
and recite a line
and say it to me ,

go on your  toes and reach up to the skies
for a book only you can find on high .
Look for  a leaf to leave on a  page ,
that hasn't withered with age
and lose it
In a secret place ,

In the words of a rhyme ,you
can never find
or ever want to replace
In words you can never retrace .

And then one day ,
a raven or crow ,
will call at your door ,
someday
and leave outside a lock and a ring
and no one will ever know
why or what for ? .