Dying

Beauty, he wondered.

Raw, primal, beautiful nature whispering,

while the flowers and earth pondered,

and nature occasonally hissed.

Everything was loud, though sounds were few

until she came into view.

She with the darkest of locks,

curls cascading, putting night-lit waterfalls to shame,

her appearence mocks life

and nature's dying flame.

He felt broken and lame. 

Eyes wide, he wept under nature's dying moon

realizing he was no longer immune

once he heard her silent tune.