Elita still her name

[Daddy Bear]

She stands in a forsaken temple,

With patient gaze and features gentle;

Each day her bronze a whisper lighter,

As witnessed by a single spider

That to this apparition clings

On filaments that bridge her wings.

All things decline, said Rome's great poet;

Her home the sky, as Earth below it,

Grow dim as lights impact the sea -

Stars raining from their canopy;

Deprived of her most perfect grace,

Which held them in their honored place.