Through the window to my mind's eye,
I catch a glimpse of a girl.
With beauty rivaling that of the Black Rose,
Skin softer than that of a white lily,
And more precious than the night's stars.
I see her, standing there,
In the pouring rain as the clouds pass,
drenching her features in sunlight.
Skies change,
Days pass,
And still I see her,
Standing there,
With beauty rivaling that of the Black Rose.
