of evening's sweet, sweet face
and oh, her ghostly, ghostly eyes
reflect its lively grace
of where she ever will remain
and where i long to be
i sense her tragedy and pain
as something within me
there painted beautifully, it dies
through balladry i speak
and soon so fluently in size
the water's shimmer seeks
for how her verging will unchain
a lively, lively dream
she settles comfortably in vain
as cloudiness can scheme
the things she's not apt to let pass
for she is far too bright
the skies aren't quite enough in mass
to ever confess plight
for centuries she's been around
within her mending soul
and though i sense this feeling's bound
toward her beauty's shoal
her breath is as the looking glass
which echoes my own heart
i wish while airing the morass
of life i bleed as art
that i had delicately crowned
the strength she holds within
and uttered kindly with the sound
of love that's always been
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