AS WE LOVED ABOVE THE DEAD


You stood naked against the tombstone,
the graveyard, whisper quiet,
you shivered, at my touch,
in the stillness of the night.

In the hills, a vixen calling,
Ivy trembled, as if in dread,
as we in passion, truly lived,
as we loved above the dead.

Did the rested, hear our passion,
recalling love, of feather bed,
did they wish to join the living,
as we loved above the dead.

Then darker seemed our passion,
as full moon, cloud, behind did rush,
was it hiding there from passion,
or did it simply hide its blush.

Did ghosts frown, at our entwining,
for the graveyard was our bed,
or did they envy us, our passion,
as we loved above the dead.