In sempiternal shades of perfect perfection,
Lay a form with serene affection,
My vitality waned in fickle reflection,
Of the moment I beheld such satiation.
Woman of unfathomable beauty,
Silken skin and so fine a form,
A Heshbon of eyes, a beautiful norm,
A lock of gold off the shapely deity.
I would cringe to walk by
Without saying such,
Yet would I kneel and kiss
Your gentle hand?
In the purple blossoms you sail free
Ridding the drear off the vast champaign
I find myself pretzel bended_
While like clay, moulded me into forms unseen
In simple misery,
I regress to digress,
Of how I may regret,
If I pass without a say!
Nay you shall not wreath
A flowery bend for two,
For so I know it too
We can only stare_ ’tis true.
Your deliciously spelled mien
Encase me in deliberate awe,
Capsulated time; frozen true_
Seized me in throes of respect and envy.
Yet I muse aware – odes can only be expressed,
Even when much isn’t to be gained,
For the pain a dither soul endures from words unsaid
Is bitter and unfathomable in this fickle life!