Of Her

i have seen a picture of perfection,

a painting in god’s favored collection

of arts. her words the sound of a song

of Euphoria, as graceful as they are strong.

the sound of her voice defies reason

with just her words she can soothe the seas and

storms that rage along inside me

and her light banishes the shades that hide me.

they, my own creation of course, the barriers

i made, yet the sounds i hear carry her

visage, bright and shining, to Mend my heart deject

behind my walls i created to myself protect.

her touch is cool and soft as silk

and quells such thoughts as hatred’s Ilk

atop her head sits gorgeous locks,

that flowing sun-streaked forest shocks

those dead to the world, those such as me,

and frames a sculpture of greek beauty

and the curves of a smile, a Laugh which she hides

match the power and majesty of coastal tides.

the gift she has given me is worth more,

her friendship, than crowns of kings or

Ivory or jewels or treasures of myth,

yet my selfish desires want more: a kiss

or perhaps to have the magnanimous grace

to allow me to hold her in simple Embrace.