Gleaming under the golden sun.
Like a rose that stands alone.
Hidden aways are your visions of grace.
Chained behind the gate of hate.
A lonely isle is the wine dark sea.
Where are the warriors when you are in need.
Alone you stand against the tide but you are not afraid and you never cry.
The gate is strong but you still smille.
The merry laughter shall waken the sun,
All shall break and come to pass.
But you will live in story and song.
This poem is insipred by someone who showed me love and beauty. If that person ever read my poem I would like to tell you. Thank you.