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.