Under the old oak tree they lay awake
The silver moon their only source of light
No boundaries, no rules, no others could take,
The feelings two lovers exchanged that night.
The sun greeted only her broken face,
Her wilted heart's frail dew fell from her eyes,
She heard the trumpet calling from the base;
It was the all too familiar battle cries.
But two months later on July the Third,
She waited for her soldiers return;
Two lonesome months gone by without a word
The tragic twist of fate she would soon learn.
Now under the old oak tree they once laid,
Lays memories of his ghost soon to fade.
