La Poesia - The Seventh Song

The Seventh Song

On the bustling promenade
Cacophany of cars, crowds and cackling ravens
An orchestra of noise
Amidst the myriad throngs
Someone cuts a solitary figure
With the grace of a princess
Her elegant shawl like an angel's wings
Flowing in the autumn breeze

When the hands of time freeze
helpless are even the kings
What more a damsel in distress
Waiting for her dreamer
Who is writing his songs
He has made his choice
Blessed by the angels in their heavens
Her he will serenade

PS: This was written en Octubre on the same date as the post time of this post, but somehow yours truly never put it up here till now.
A case of 出了界的一瞬間、開不了口的永恒？