Such small fingers linger in the aisles of my bosom,
For when she blossomed from my innermost beauty,
Where forth she shall be called mine in sweetsome,
Her sweet little eyes sparkle with a smile from the heart of eternity;
And she grows to be the most beauteous star in the skies above,
When forth she is cradled in my arms,
From the deepest of deep love,
She paces innocence into my arms away from such harm;
By time, she goes and grows to be the meaning of love…
From the heavens above…
…She steps from innocence to a born most beautiful flower…
…That blossoms from a mid-winter day ’til night’s rest from eternity’s flicker…
…From my beauty that bear her blossoming beauty which found love under the hands of recondite
manly glory…