The curse of the beholder

I lay in field of flowers bloom
Warmed by embrace of stars and moon
And curse your name, your heart of thieves
You stole from me the land and seas

The wood of ancient forest root
A gentle splash of rivers newt
Frail snow that floats upon a whisp
Leaves coloured orange, brown and crisp

In natures boon I could once say
I found the beauty night and day
But now I can not feel nor see
The worth of all compared to thee

So name I curse through love not hate
As for your sigh my breath abate
The name of she my soul hath seize
The girl who stole my summer breeze