The rusted iron gate opened with a groan, as if it were the voice of the tired land it guarded. I stepped just inside taking a deep breath as I examined the garden of stone in front of me. The night air was cool but comfortably so, just as the night had been my love had left. I walked my usual path of cobblestone overgrown with roots and weeds. As always, I passed a great deal of impressive markers, some however showed their great age. The crooked path eventually led me to my goal. On top of a small hill lay a lone tomb stone under an old oak, the inscription long worn away.
The already overcast and moonless sky began to grow even darker and rain soon started to fall. I sat down beside the headstone and watched the water drop from the leaves of the tree. After several silent hours had passed, the rain had subsided and the clouds broke giving way to a rising sun. I gazed out at the dim horizon and waited for the dawn, signaling my time to leave. Next year I will appear again, and will continue to do so as I have for two hundred years prior. I will wait for your return, my love. Always.
This is a short story I came up with while passing a cemetery on my way home. Most details are left relatively vague and are open for interpretation, I hope you enjoy it!