Starry Eyed

My lady gazes at the skies
As moonlight swims upon her eyes,
Yet in those beloved orbs of soul
A stillness sits as dark as coal.

Her strands of long and tragic hair
Are puppets to the will of air,
And graceful fingers on the ground
Will there be forever bound.

Oh!  Misfortune had her say,
Destroying our most joyful day,
Which was reborn its most forlorn.
Oh!  Now her dress is soiled and torn.

The nighttime sky she loved the most
Sits still and quiet as a ghost--
Mourning, like me, the cruelest part--
Nevermore reflected in our lady's heart.