Beyond the purple moors lies a watery grave, under a moonlit night.
Carrying away with it his lost, los... love.
Howling winds were carried throughout the purple moors.
The most sombering sound I had ever heard, it was as if someone were crying.
There he had seen his beloved brides' body crumpled on top of the sharp rocks at the bottom of the brook.
Water lilies floated about her watching as her life ebbed out on to the treacherous rocks and flowed into the stream of the watery grave.
Within the purple moors I heard a wise owl, that heard the last words the bridegroom uttered quietly into the moolit night.
" No more pain my dearest love. No more pain, shall we feel."
And then the purple moors were silent once again, except for the brook that flowed on through the night.
By ~ Gabrielle Branscom ~