The Spirit of a Stranger

She stands there in the open, shoe-less in the rain; hopeless, wandering, completely soaked in pain. Her arms are wrapped about her, tightly, she shivers in the cold. And as I pass by slowly, quietly, I am told: her name, it is Aurora. Her body, it is frail. I long to hold her tightly, and kiss her lips so pale. She walks off in the moonlight, and I cannot help but follow. Without her beauty in my sight, I just feel oh so hollow. Her name will not come off my lips as she moves further and further away. I soon give up on following, yet shortly hear a splash. She's gone for a swim in the lake nearby, now that's something I can't pass. I hurry to the site, the scene, and join her from afar. I watch the moon in her sad, pale eyes as I survey her body for scars. I see some floating on her wrists as she sinks further below the bridge. I take my piece, hold it to my head, and tell her I love her. I can be with her at last. Aurora, we don't know each other, but I love you nonetheless. I watched you cry and I watched you die, and all I want is to be with you. So if you'll be my angel in this desolate land, this time I'll save you, I'm sure of it.