A long, dark, winding road,
at night's darkest hour,
this was her safe haven,
it was her perfect flower.

Slowly, on tip toes,
she dances in the middle,
with intricate footsteps,
creating her own riddle.

This peaceful scene,
quickly turns rigid,
as lights fly down the road,
and the body goes limp, and frigid.

Her vision goes blurry,
and her heart goes still,
her perfect flower,
certainly can ****.

Lights fly along,
a long, dark, winding road,
and her story is shared,
so she never grows old.