He sleeps and I weep.

He sleeps, and I weep.

Walk lightly; he is here under the snow; speak softly; he can hear the daisies grow. His once vibrant, brown hair, tarnished with rust, used to be youthful and charming. Now he has fallen to dust. Like the falling snow. He was a man of such sweetness that I flourished beside him. The stone that lies on his chest. It symbolizes my heart; he has always been mine, and I know he's at rest. He can't hear me. But my life is here marked by a mound of earth as I wait and sit up on it. Hoping he will return.