While the clock informed the hands.

I call it the ivory wood,  I can see her tears, she's  been quietly breaking
for many years,  there is a love that lays in sleep, his shadows compressed against the tide
and she in mourning  knows that shadow , it never leaves her side

the ivory comes from pale places 
He may go through death, and she a vibrant colour still clings upon his breath, although untold was their story , But many words were placed by heart, a ghost and his fair lady 
that love to never part

The ivory of a pale complacent
there never was a truer thought, than that of loves affection,  the tallest trees had taught,  there in the shadows of a dream he once had told, the leaves they seemed to blush in season, and shimmer well with gold

There was a great beginning,  and in the story bound to he, love makes silhouettes look crazy standing next to she, for all he heard was the music the sounds of forests , the birds on high, and as the seasons come to change,  met with the sky

For she was his absolute comparison,  and embraced in time
their hearts would mend
his ghostly  figuration and fair lady as his friend , as lovers burned eternal in that moment caught by sand, the falling grains still trickling 
while the clock informed its hands.