A stroll

Dusk-lit lights of glowing fire
In the evening light they glide
Tall and handsome, with glowing embers in his eyes
He leaned across to take her hand;
Eyes locked in a deadly battle,
Raging emotions over forthcoming war.
Whispers of a thousand leaves,
Dying in the cold, the sorrow of life.
He lowers his head, drops her hands,
And as a coward of this war,
He turns his back and strides.