How radiant you were when you believed
That I would, in my innocence, remain
The same untouched, beloved child and gain
A balance none but you could have achieved.

How Beautiful you were when you were wrong.
What did you love in that reluctant child?
Perhaps you saw his brilliance or his wild
Emblazoned soul which you believed was strong.

I pitied you the moment when you knew
That there, before you, stood no tower of strength,
But just a fragile, though artistic child.
I pitied you the burning love which you
Incessantly embraced; and though at length,
A shroud to grace, you chose to live awhile.

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