a final promise/you won't be here tomorrow

when the wind blows

its lonesome whistle

just know, my lover

its from my lips

the wind is my swallow

and when that pattering rain

drives away those peaceful dreams

its my march onward

it mimics, ever so subtle

my darling, to you it will follow

if the stars hide their faces

behind frosty clouds

continue with your hand to the sky

the moon will guide you

my hand the same, we share our sorrow

my dearest, our goodbyes

are already said

i wont see you again

so i love you

from our love's grave, forever ill echo