A transformation it was,
And yes it was something in itself.
A noble knight with a noble cause,
She took fight against the world herself.
A ballad writer she saw,
Who wrote requiems.
And so quickly did the ice she thaw,
And stitched the open seems.
Fraying and swaying like a pendulum,
Was the poet; stuck in a vicious pattern.
From the decent to the doldrums,
Under constant darkness in storm a lantern.
But she was the guide and the new light,
Rather a new home.
Against the world she would protect and fight,
And he would share his dome.
On his part her soul he’d save.
When she’d come from battles
He’d fix her wounds both tangible and soul,
The transformation was a beautiful one,
From a fighter to emotion igniter,
From violent and macabre to none.
From requiems to a serenade writer.