Here there can be none,
where I have been burried in love.
It forgets one.
Bushes green leaves, very tall trees
and mine is the Forrest
we live in.

I have planted no pretty flowers,
or roses, blue tall towers.
White clouds out of snow for our heads.
One name I have said.
Over and over again.
Dying at night, when love
over takes us.

Is It Poetry

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/burried-love/