She remains beautiful as I grow old
Her raven hair flown in and out of
The atmosphere if I wear to die
She would remain immortal.
She is time and space she is
Beauty in its finest form
And I love her in this
Prelude to tragedy.
The words breaking like
The silence, I've waited for
So long for HER to return
The sorrow feels so wrong
When her grimacing smile
Makes me feel so heart felt.
This tragedy is centuries old....
And her roses are all dead.....
The tales are all told...
And she will remain Immortal....