On that bleak night, those years ago,
The rivers filled and overflowed
For underneath the heaven's eyes,
I sat beneath the moon and cried
And turned the brooks to woe and brine -
My tears were theirs, despair was mine
My little nymph - my woodland sprite -
Had chosen then, upon that night,
To fling her soul to realms unknown
And live amongst the weeds we'd sown
For concrete now besmeared her home,
And though she'd stayed, the birds had flown
Great swathes of pain now mar these trees
Which disappear by slow degrees
My fairy of these former glades
Has died without the woodland shade
And I am left, now all alone,
To grieve upon the stone we've grown
source - https://www.poems-and-quotes.com/
credit - Ben Pickard
I am a poet myself but dont feel like sharing it, sometimes i want to sometimes not, depends on my feelings at that time and what not