Lost Love Poem by Natasha Foster

This is the end of him,
Here he lies;
My greatest love, my greatest enemy.
Out of the night that covers me,
There he lies and dies.

Then suddenly one night,
My dead love came to me and said:
'Thy beauty haunts my heart and soul;
Your emerald eyes and hair black as coal.'

When in the mines of dark and silent thought,
He continued to speak to me:
'Saints have adored the lofty soul of you,
And I'll love you 'til the end of time, too.'