How many more sighs must
Pass ere my words be stitched into thy heart,
Thy very being — a masterpiece painted by the Lord’s gentle breathe.
Ebony pools of the deepest sea, doused in the purity of milk,
“I drown in your gaze, turn thy sight from me,
For you have overcome me”,
Deign to converse with me; thy voice is a song I yearn to hear.
With a longing that yearns with the entirety of my fondness,
For this matchless butterfly, fluttering through grace.
Her elegance decorated in virtue and fealty,
Endowed with a mind of equal splendor;
Compels me to linger upon the path that guides to her.
I beseech the Sun/Son to allow me the honor of basking in her radiant warmth.
My endearment, doth neither stray, falter nor wane, indeed,
It was not difficult to discern why one was enamored of her,
For she was akin to aged wine, matured under the heavens of countless nights,
Or a blossom whose bloom is sprightly.
Love blindeth one, and within my heart, no tenderness resides but for thee.
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