She is like a river in spring, so gentle
and fair, with all the beauty of life blooming
like a flower-bed about her feet

Her eyes like summer leaves, emerald
stars entwined with silver burnished
by all the virtues of her soul

Her hands heal hearts, they stem
the tides of grief and aggravation, rolling
never further than the lighthouse of her love

She walks with lambency, her light
is closer and warmer than the sun
Her love is golden, her heart is green
and both are as perennial as the trees

She makes my life worthy of devotion, ceasing
never with her gentleness and grace, for a touch from her
is like sunlight after rain.

Her summers number now
one hundred and fifty in all
but her search for grey hairs is in vain
and not a wrinkle will ever be found
upon the vividness of her face

Mina, a mother and mentor to many
now stands here among us, glowing
in the light of the ships and sea
Now gathered here is family and friends, who love you
so much that we forgive you, too
for infecting us all with your speak.


Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Daedalan, in the year 650 AF.