The bleak, mellow fall had taken its toll.
Her longing strived for trivial awe,
in which lies no sufficient contentment.
Emptiness’s illiteracy and lofty obstinacy,
She had long enough of.
Through the hectic of hills, and the vigorous valley
Of the shadow of death, seasonal suffering marched.
Oh how prudent praises
Serenade the province of God’s Promise
For a tremendous mend had arrived
upon her soul adrift.