Writhing with a spitefulness that nature never wants to hear.
I had this statue that I had sown tomorrow's sorrow harvests.
Allowing pain to dull its hue with bitterness its tarnish.
But came a soul with purer heart to polish away the tarnish.
Washed away the rust of time tolling with new varnish.
Her only tears that wrought new shades now bore a novel shape.
Bringing forth a brighter soul reaping classic drape.
Now this statue once lain fallow dawns a sweeter gown.
Now it gleams as the jewel in center of sun's town.
I place it on my pedestal and lover's eyes shall sear.
For I wait but fortnight time, and my statue doth appear.