all was not lost.
she said,
with her wavering voice.
she was always perceived,
as robust and austere,
why would she crumbles down?
behind the facade of a masterpiece,
grave foreboding would be the company,
a mind could cast a veil upon it,
but none would ever confine it.
let those wet beads escape,
let them be free,
heave your woe away,
refrain it to astray.
