Godless clouds consumed that day, gray in the shadows.
Little white flowers wilted, jilted on a sad rose.
Odorless, their petals fell, as blue blossoms do.
Only if these tears, if they could resurrect you.
Maybe if I were to join you into the dark unknown.
You and I could be together, bone to bone.
Sorrow is my coffin with each new breath.
Until I can see you again there is no peace until death.
Now every Sunday is gloomy and everything is sad.
Do not be afraid though, to be with you I will be glad.
Angels have left us in this ending world alone.
Yet I will defy them on Sunday, and meet you, under the stone.