• The brightening morn
    So peaceful and still
    Snowflakes from darkening clouds are torn
    Three silent figures sitting on a hill

    No footsteps heard
    No movement unveiling
    No chattering birds
    No creatures their fellows hailing
    There comes a movement slight
    A squirrel does trill
    A screeching crow takes flight
    Three silent figures sitting on a hill

    The gloomy clouds begin to shift
    A blazing fire begins to shine
    Between the white expanding rift
    Striking terror into the hearts of thine
    Quaking figures in the snow
    No longer are they sitting still
    Their fear begins to show
    Three silent figures sitting on a hill

    Their soft white skin begins to sweat
    Young lives quickly hasted
    Faces lined with deep regret
    At time so swiftly wasted
    As perspiration blends with tears
    The sun burning ever still
    Inspires a nameless fear
    In these three silent figures sitting on a hill

    Upon the morrow
    Naught remains
    But liquid sorrow
    That slowly drains
    Leaving nothing to show
    Those who sat, silent, still
    Waiting in the snow
    Three silent figures sitting on a hill