For here it was, thy lowly breeze
With gentile touch, it masked her breath.
Shall he spare her innocence?
How they bask in the glow,
In reflective morn, his silence stung,
Till he kissed her lips.
T ‘was loves design, feathered light and pure;
Across thy soul, it shall endure.
As he sought her years, she has appeared,
Still masked with fear, he watches.
Marked with fate he is tainted.
He read the words she painted.
From afar, the time has slipped;
Stained his brow, broke him down;
Now this is it.
Speak meek soul, walk this road.
Or let her go…