Marks

Etched on the edges of a woods are the names of two lovers We've seen it all before With a knife the boy would carve her name beside his perhaps after a picnic The tree wouldn't mind of course The tip of the knife would probably just tickle it before the lovers leave for good But as far as the old tree is concerned nothing seems to distinguish these marks from the ones we see on the grave Somewhere along the way the two would meet The name of death beside the name of love that a god has scribbled on his notebook while he was out having fun