The Waning Scarlet Pimpernel

Like a lady dying young, withering and frail,
struggled to keep a queenly compose in her coral veil,
Breaking free stern silence, led by the insane,
she scolded out what have all been done in vain.

Then she’s gone to join the dashing earth in peace,
So naughty and tiny, barely showing her final face.
I wept such a loss that turns her lights to grace. 
Whose lights adorned the world around it, leaves 
Those who remain behind, neither pity nor whining.
Instilled not a passionate clinging reverie,
But a pale despair and cold serene.

How does a moment live forever?
How can a story never die? 
A beauty faded companionless falling among wintry foliage,
And a child turned into the coldest man vowed for revenge;
Nature's vast frame, the trap of human endeavors, 
what has not been done in vain except our incapable love?
Birth and the grave, even the two paths intertwined.

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