A metaphor could never paint your scene–
They may show lilies in a valley deep
or how the ocean scrubs the shore so clean
as the children so close to mothers keep.
Scarcely with quill do I utter your name–
than die on paper, words then fade away
my pithy be damned it just seems the same
as all the love poems that have come our way.
Oh would that I could I might sell my soul–
to draw such splendor as I find in you
eternally damned but words made you whole
on straight to hell just to color your hue.
And as the heavens fill with stars tonight
my words I’ll write until dawn or first light.
As the moon so quiet drifts as you lie
and howl of winter slips by the door
drift my sweet lady, do sleep and do sigh
writing such words, from my heart they do pour!
Fade and keep warm in the dark of your bed
swift will I share sweet scent of your skin–
lilies compare not, through fields though they spread
to your smell and your charm source of my sin.
So ponder your dreams and when you awake
fresh as the new fallen snow in the dell
look South to my window, far past the lake
I sit here and write, of you and do tell:
My words are not meant for others to see
They worship your grace and your majesty.
A hundred scraps or more of wasted ink
Trying to tell them of your sacred bliss-
Writing words telling of you and to think
That all the while I longed for your sweet kiss.
To hold you in my arms and love you true
Sharing my life until I have no breath
With you sweet woman whom I never knew
Could occupy my thoughts until my death.
Who made her way into my soul so deep
And cast her loving spell into my heart.
Holding you in my arms so you could reap
My tender loving for you from the start.
Whisper my lover from outside your door
And I’ll whisper back it’s you I adore.