As grave beckons upon this mortal breath,
And that day came, when existence shall cease;
Gladly shall I embrace the beck of death,
To sail through life’ shore to that realm of bliss.

‘Yond this bound, whence breath will matter no more
Shall this life be measure by length fulfilled,
Or by rare wealth of allure and splendor;
Along this sojourn treasured and unveiled?

But those moments spent with Euphemia;
That took my breath away ‘pon shooting stars,
And turned routine into euphoria;
Sealed with smile and laughter, as balm to scars.

My fulfilment will not be found in years,
Neither in abundance nor in length of days;
But in those rare moments shared without fears,
Whose golden footprints no time can erase.

O’ sweet Euphemia,
Thou, whose statuesque allure
Enchants the heaven!

Elysian Eden;
Thou, who adorns paradise
As garden that blooms