Art I worthy of such privilege
To love thine true beauty?
For I'm but a humble stalk, my  
silent flower
aloft resplendent in a Sun beam
conferring meaning to life.

Alas! perfidious winds grieve
as a triste petal trickles
to the ground rent asunder
in the capricious hands of fate
I metamorphose to a sceptre  
you a jewel in its crown.