Today she sits among the leaves
A ring of flowers in her hair.
Tomorrow she will come again
And dance with vigor in the air.
She was an angel in the snow
Yesterday not filled with woe,
But if you call her name at night
Her lips will kiss your heart.
She loves you dearly, so she says,
But etern’ly stays the same.
She loves another man in time,
And awaits his heav’nly train.
Her spider’s web of hair weaves light,
Her flaxen strands do tempt.
Her rosebud lips of candlelight
Purse gently with despair
Sorrow swirls around her breast
And yet you love her still,
For though she leaves the door quite locked
The key is what you kill.
As she lays down in her bed
Of roses like her lips,
You hold her tight and kiss goodnight,
speak softly of the wisps.
“I’m scared,” she cries, but loves so dear
the music of the light.
And when she rests her mournful head
Your tears become the blight.