One would say it's a treasure of old.
I hear the stories of her heart;
a whispering locket of stories told-
of her love 'n how they had to part.
Whispers of love and a promise;
when he came back they would wed.
Handsome he was and very honest-
until that very night, when he fled.
The war was cold 'n tore apart hearts;
her whispers are fear with tired tears,
as her love kissed before he departs.
She whispers his name through the years;
an undying love that I now wear.
Whispers told in fragments of gold
that tell a story of great despair-
from a love in which now I hold.
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