The Keepers

The Keepers

On a long and sultry summer's day,
amidst a sweet smelling rain.
The gentle seas stopped by here to play
love's song, in soft refrain.

There's a velvet cover of moss on a stone,
clinging tightly up to the end.
Like the old and faded memories of home,
they came this way to defend.

They were the keepers of an eternal flame,
sentries of love and desire.
Let the lasting light of passion remain;
illuminate love's last fire.

When all the lonely people unknown
were dressed in clever disguise,
the paths they tread, they tread so alone,
broken souls and tear filled eyes.

Too short are the days, too long are the years,
no answers on crashing waves;
but listen, you'll hear the sound of their fears,
lost, in the end of their days.

There never will be, but a cupful of time
for thanks of love they had given.
No one notice or read from the sign
why they were always driven.

In the end it was said the keepers were dead,
they died in the warm summer rains.
The tale was told as the frigid waves fled
over the Keeper's final remains.

A blue ribbon gift from Tracy Lordes

© Copyright 2005 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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