My Thoughts
I cannot stop looking over,
Just across the way,
At a four-leaf clover
Personified fimininely:--.
Dainty and all too perfect,
Designed statuesquely,
Glistening, smooth marble,
Carved by Michelangelo's hand,
Which was guided by God's.
Her features are soft,
And she is very gentle.
Hair of silk flows like the
Breath of the wind
And cascades over her
Beautiful face, her blue eyes,
Pink cheeks, and full lips.
She stands as a princess,
But destined she is to be
A queen to a man who surely
Will feel undeserving
Of this bright, shining star.
She blooms like the flowers
Upon her summery dress.
A time ago I felt myself
To be a monster, allowing
Thoughts of lust to stew
Within. But they dissipate.
Thoughts of wonderment
Arise, thoughts of beauty,
Amazement, astonishment,
Appreciation, benevolence,
And mystery replace what
Was once of something
Utterly disgusting, immoral.
I am overcome with joy--
A strange joy, one never
Felt across this particular
Way. The distance has
Closed yet never moved.
While I hand the reigns
To Emotion, who is excitable,
I still feel it necessary
That I declare I may have
Fallen in the arms of love.
'Tis a shame.
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