In the quiet shadows where the lilies bloom,
Emily whispers secrets to the moon,
Her words, a melody of gentle grace,
Dance upon the wind, a tender embrace.

The nightingale sings of her silent flight,
Through veils of mist, into the endless night,
Stars weep for her, their tears a silver stream,
In the tapestry of time, she is a dream.

Her pen, now still, once wove life’s delicate thread,
A legacy of verse, though she is dead,
In every heart, her poetry remains,
A timeless echo of her gentle strains.

Emily, in death, finds her final rest,
Among the stars, her spirit truly blessed,
Her words, a beacon in the darkest skies,
Forever shining in our wistful eyes.