In the springtime morning,
I see her standing still.
Her beauty unsurpassed,
but alone, it seems her will.
A crystal tear upon her cheek,
from a distant pain.
Although I see her in my dreams,
I fear to speak her name.
Her smile could melt the hardest heart,
and make it melt like ice.
Her heart is locked in chains of iron,
to avoid it's breaking twice.
Her eyes could sparkle so,
to make the stars hide in shame.
I still see her in my minds eye,
but fear to speak her name.
I see her teardrops from far away,
as she grips the blood-dipped rose.
Holding on to a certain dream,
much like myself, I do suppose.
To see her tears fade away,
and to make her smile again.
Would I face scornful laughter,
or is she afraid to speak my name?