Tired Bouquet

Alone, on the high land of Orcombe
footsteps at the edge of our cliffs
where pebbles tumble
to quickening beat of heart
then cry from fallen rock
past a swirl of crows in the mist
Near a stone to mark the ages
where the feet of a king once stood
the sea swallows petals gladly
where once we breathed together
warm sigh of pines from the wood
If I'd known the kiss you gave me
was fated to be our last
could I have seized that moment
and saved us from the past