For hath yet another year passed, oh troubled soul,
And may the hours and days for dearest time fade so,
Oh, such treachery named time, shall we slay him so,
But what is foul may deem fair, when given a beau,
Thus, may 'tis dearest rose bloom to greater heights,
And may'st the petals dance in wind greater mights,
For may the rays of gold feed ‘tis mighty rose,
And amongst the open land shall it blessfully pose,
Until great time calls for the treachery of winter to flee,
Quietly to the rose for golden rayless shall now it be.
But ah, yes no rose shall bloom when suffocated here,
But shall'st what suffocates be but fairness a'dear,
For bless't shall we be by the fairsome winter snow,
Yes be not blooming, but be'st its own beauty so,
For may sheets of purness shall cover the land a’mass,
Hiding the filthy paints of land - as for filth be’st the past.
For in present shall crystals clutter the busy streets,
And radiate the brightness here from these sheets.
For may the great fractals drift into thy very hair,
Which glows a dearest diamond and be’st a’fair,
For may crystals glean glisters and speak thereof,
And shine'st like thy stars that rest peacefully above,
Above shall the Heaven’s be as there shall angles rest,
But why’st it be missing one, for its greatest blessed,
Has fallen to ‘tis realm of which we deem home,
And slyly upon our great streets does she roam.
For upon this greatsome world, may fortunate man and she meet,
For treacherous time spent with thou’st but be’st a greatful treat.
And thankfully shall they to the great Heavens above,
For hath two to tangle yet may’st it too two to love.
