• I smell roses on my palm.
    I finger the red silk cotton,
    That will never be forgotten.
    Though, you wilted with age,
    You are still as lovely as I remember.
    I will treasure that last December.
    Wait for me in the Elysian fields?
    Styx will aide in making me a shade,
    Tho' never let your memory fade.
    Know I will come for you.
    For you are my only desire,
    And I will never tire.