The roses left in her hair, 

as white and as pure as she.

A dark lace covers her cheeks,

her heart audibly knocks when she hears a scream. 

Her dark curls decorate the bed artfully,

while the lamp seems to flicker on her all night.

I watch her breathe lyrically, 

And selfishly wish she would wake and write. 

There's a bottle left in her hand, 

I believe the wine has gone a bit sour.

I know she's dreaming of heavens land.

I want to follow her with a drink by the hour.

"She's lovely", I thought.

One of the loveliest I had ever seen. 

My thought must have been loud that night,

for I saw her smile bashfully in her sleep.