Sweet gentle daughter of dreaming blue eyes
Reflecting visions from some distant sphere;
Untainted by nightmares of icy fear,
Nor saddened yet by fate's mocking disguise.
Unopened book of fickle tomorrow,
Not certain of how future may unfold,
With hours of lead or hours of molten gold;
Unenlightened yet by unknown sorrow.
Sands rush through the hourglass of wasted years,
While breaking our young hearts with shattered dreams.
The clock of life wrings disappointed tears,
Unhampered by our plans and clever schemes.
Beware grim reaper swinging ***** blade
Who mocks thee as childhood days slowly fade.

**~Hilda~