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....