Softly scented blooming ground,

Of those of wise, she will be crowned,

Strong of will and no mistake,

Of those of young and weak awake.

Queen of the light mysterious land,

Yet possible of a brutal hand,

Yield her enchantingly beautiful call,

Will be able to traumatize them all.

Fair of face, soft of skin

Much the same as as her moonlit kin,

Like the morning rising soft with rays,

Old yet young as the passing days.

Either sad or joyous trials,

She walked those grievous miles,

Now done her day for she has tire,

Filled with great mourning desire,

So into the Havens there she went,

With fellow friends and those of end.

By me ^_~ What did you think?