Love was her symbol,
joy her only cry.
I've spoilt you, she told me,
just before she stumbled dry.
What once was loved and symbolised fame,
is now, just detested and burned to flames.
She was brave, courageous, dauntless,
with the heart of a dove,
for even the sands that tried to drown her,
she'd caress and love,
after a state of wonder, they'd flip, trip and frown,
beneath her feet they'd march under,
as if to bow down.
Never have I seen her thereafter,
missing the merry smiles and beautiful laughter.
She's left no grave to pry on,
no memory stained,
How could I still be weary, while happiness is all I ever gained.