under such
grayish, rusty
roof,
with the howling
sound of violins,
there she witnessed
the mini, gentle
foot steps,
the ligth-weighted,
vibrant,
elegant
blush of her dress,
with pure, innocent,
angelic eyes,
dark hair,
and crowned
heir.

she was my darling,
my sweet nightingale,
my beloved strings,
seemingly unwanted,
but completely,
a wish granted
by the stars, the galaxies,
oh, my beautiful
anemony, my antonym.