Dying
Beauty, he wondered.
Raw, primal, beautiful nature whispering,
while the flowers and earth pondered,
and nature occasonally hissed.
Everything was loud, though sounds were few
until she came into view.
She with the darkest of locks,
curls cascading, putting night-lit waterfalls to shame,
her appearence mocks life
and nature's dying flame.
He felt broken and lame.
Eyes wide, he wept under nature's dying moon
realizing he was no longer immune
once he heard her silent tune.