Twas Her Pure White Dove
Having met her beauty..
Upon our Wednesday stroll
Girl, she was fine; intoxicating, like strawberry wine
Taking my scratch thinking it was something be as, poetry
But honestly, what did we know until her; she was so fresh to his novice
Straight from splendour's heart; fell about silk, her soft palms
Isles amid tiny perfumed notes swaying, their transic trees after she
Crafting fairy tales while dancing atop waters her, milky way scenes ? Princess....
Mirror's rhyme moondust time; sprinkling lavender skies her carriage arrives in love, this night.
|