Renascent Rove

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

land.

For a tremendous mend had arrived

upon her soul adrift.