All belongs to the man of the century: Tolkien.
Elven Mortality
Your body is cold next to mine
In the days, your grey eyes
Shine with joy
You revel in life
But at night I see you
Walking beneath the trees
You lift your eyes to the stars
And you remember
You remember what used to be
What could have been
What is
And what will never be
Tears run down your beautiful face
Your shoulders shake with sorrow
And your head is lifted to the heavens
Laid bare to the forlorn white stars
Nothing can comfort you in these
Lonely hours of absolute darkness
Not me
Not even your children
Ancient memories flash before you
From a time I will never know
They hit you hard
And inundate your soul
When you open your eyes
The orbs are deep wells of sorrow
But as they look to the rising sun
No trace of regret can be seen