THE GRAVE THAT GREW A DOOR

THE GRAVE THAT GREW A DOOR

I walked into the churchyard,
Where my darling laid asleep,
I carried all my memories,
And promises to keep.

The night was cold and silent,
The moon was hanging low,
I touched his name upon the stone,
And told him I must go.

Then underneath my fingertips,
The gravestone gave a sigh,
A little golden door appeared,
Beneath the midnight sky.

I should have turned and hurried home,
But love pulled me instead,
I opened up the tiny door,
And stepped among the dead.

There wasn’t bones or darkness,
No lonely souls in chains,
There was fields of silver flowers,
And warm enchanted rains.

I seen my darling waiting,
Beside a crystal stream,
He looked exactly as he did,
Inside my sweetest dream.

He wrapped his arms around me,
I felt his beating heart,
I said, “Please let me stay with you,
I cannot bear apart.”

He kissed my cheek so tenderly,
Then whispered in my ear,
“Your story isn’t over yet,
You cannot remain here.”

He led me to the golden door,
Although I begged and cried,
He said, “Go live for both of us,
I’ll wait the other side.”

The door shut tight behind me,
The dawn began to spread,
And once again a stone remained,
Above my darling’s bed.

I lived until my hair turned white,
I laughed despite the pain,
For I knew beyond that little door,
I’d see my love again.

Then on my final winter night,
I heard him call my name,
The golden door stood open wide,
And through it, smiling, I came