The gentlest autumn breeze was blowing through her face, her mane;
Making her dip her eyelids sometimes.
The golden rays of the old sun were cleaning off the scars in her face;
Making her stretch her pink lips and expose the pearly whites!
She, with all her pride and might, refuted my presence, and turned around;
To walk away through the green meadow.
I wish I could offer her a warm embrace to make her feel my love for her;
For the last time!
