I wish I could be here every day. We would wear soft dresses, some of them short, some laced within the form of a ballgown, then, we would sing. A sweet, slow, intro that would lure every animal by our side, for them to sit in the bright green moss as we danced around our meadow barefoot.

We would tell stories of kings and queens-

Forbidden lovers that at one point in their story held daggers to their lovers throat.

And now, as the harsh crescendo of a melody crosses the ears of everyone-

Its sound bouncing off the bark of dark oak trees, the daggers are instead thrown into an abyss.

The same abyss our own song-birds sing into without a care of who's watching or listening. They would smile and laugh as the trickling of a nearby waterfall ends their evening-

The same waterfall whose trickle brings life to the animals of the meadow, it now kills the dream of our forbidden lovers.

We watch as now our lovers' daggers are pointed at the very organ causing such pain, mourning and suffering. 

Someone heard the calling of the song birds.

But this time,

It wasn't as sweet of a sound.