She was a lady of valor and of might,
But she was also weak, scared and couldn’t fight;
Her love was as passionate as lovers could be,
But her tears were as painful as thorns should be.

You informed her not that you’re leaving,
Soon, you’ll see her bitterly crying;
Until she has foreseen the doom,
You couldn’t respond ‘cause her face was of gloom.

It fell down; her tears of love was real,
She almost cry her heart out with pain the that she feels;
Your knightly arms will calm her,
On her face will be a carved laughter.

But it cannot be done any more.
You’re too far and you leaved her with a sore.
She was bewildered, wandering from the ocean floor.
In her beautiful visage her tears pour.

The enormous waves on the ocean’s surface,
Her rushing tears from her gloomy face;
On the fine seashore sands,
There she walks and behind the yacht she stands.

Your memoirs are her reminisces of the past,
On the sunset, there her eyes was caste.
Dawn came of no assurance,
She awakes but she responded with no compliance.

She yearns for your presence.
She weeps for your absence.
She longs for reconciliation.
She was beaten out of compassion.