Miranda

Your name created in poetry Only imagination could conceive such beauty Language once taught, the profit was to curse Love now sought, in which I do immerse She who must be admired This truth already known She who is now desired To this end have I grown Hope gives wings to imagination The future bright like the morning sun Despair gives rise to agitation The past can never be undone Only time will tell what is to be As I look into the stars What is there to see Will you heal all the scars Or was it not meant to be