She with her miserable desolated soul,
Rested on her withered knees.
Her spry young heart full of felicity,
Ceased to blossom and was perishing.
She felt like nothing but a vulnerable meager piece;
Lost and confounded in cul-de-sacs of the vale,
Gone into disarray, was like a defunct rudder
Of a boat with the shredded sail.
Laying in the bed of gardenias,
Now her body had clad in the shroud;
Deserting her to another land under the
Cerulean sky with the moving clouds.
A strange smile possessing peace
Burnished on her cold, wan face,
Like the providence has granted
Her, the most covetable death with grace.