Shall I compare thee to a dying rose?
Thou art more dry and more sad in your stance.
The petals do fall off the stem of those,
and her music hath all too short a dance.
Sometime too much love can make the eyes shine,
and often her determination dimmed.
And every time I think of her heart decline,
and how her body began to have slimmed.
The dying flower starts to get brittle,
but thy eternal love shall never fade.
And the lost of you when I was little.
I will never forget your eyes of jade.
So long I can hear, and eyes can tear.
So long I don't fear, I know you are near.
