Poisonous sorrow, dancing waltz, with it’s chosen rotting prince,
Fill the heaven and the earth - pleasing their undying lord -
With so painful a miasm’ , that the princess who was lost,
Feels it’s scent, it’s crude, young smell from the entrance of her hell.

Romance, feeling of the bold, seeps through rock, through water, air,
Ends it’s life in front of him at the opened, crowded river,
Where she tried to dip one finger, yet the monster swallowed whole;
Her frail being gone forever, in the deep abyssal world.

Two ripped petals kiss each other in their withering last breath,
And a promise by this touch, left the despairing survivor :
“Thy dim light perish shall not, In my hearth’s covern lie it,
Till the wind my own will end when my time has reached it’s peak.”

Nature’s path is sweet, yet rare, for us creatures full of pain
Who don’t know how precious are, our short, beautiful poems.