12 February 2013
Today has vowed a sky of cloud; a frivolous shroud: no daylight, or joy, or beauty allowed.
Much of the day has wasted away in such a way, the birds, the people, have nothing to say.
The air breathes fire; a fair to admire. Amidst winter choir, the sun, its warmth, seek to conspire.
Warm and earthy tones sound to muted drones. As the gray blanket groans, the grass, the trees are as useless as bones.
In this deathly space, her smile lights up her face. She shines with brilliant grace. Her life brings hope for a beautiful place.
Pulchritude • Opuss № I