Flaxen Gold

I sit here on the mountain in the cold and bitter night.
I wait and hope for any sign that things will be alright.

My arms are cold from icy tears and from the lack of you.
I tried to save you from it all, but what was I to do?

I couldn't say a single word to keep you from the end.
All that's left are chintzy wigs and not a dime to spend.

I saw the color drain from you inside that bright, white room.
Now there is no bride-to-be and now I'm not a groom.

I stroke the strands of flaxen gold that once had been your hair.
I hold them close next to my heart, the pain too hard to bear.

I sit here on a mountain in the cold and bitter night.
I wait and hope for any sign that things will be alright.