You counted the truth,
a simple walk, from the start
in His path, so determined
nigh on to the tops.
Thanks to the november,
which gifted the star,
a crack of a new dawn,
a great fortune indeed,
that is more in need,
in our merry shell.
His love, His mercy,
the lovely crystals,
you always deem more
- to the rubies or corals.
You too travelled the dark,
where no lovely meadows,
only shadows that mobs,
sans refuse, so certain.
Yet the July night,
carried the shine,
to rest in a flash.
What my sorry can do for thee?
