The Midnight Mourner

She waits, under the glow of every full moon. lillies long since useful. Waiting. The desire for her long dead lover suffocating every last breath within. Through seasons changes and ages past she still returns. Always under the full moon. Always at midnight. Only to fade as smoke into the cold darkness. A whisper on the passing breeze as the bell tolls for her eternity.

Something a bit different.

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