I can't afford a picture
So I borrowed words pure
From a medieval muse
To brush a phantom like you...
Footfalls in the dark
Make me glance back
Or is it my heart
That thumps like that?
Throbbing in my spirit
A rapturous verdict
Some kind of possessing
Rabid and consuming...
Your face is the moon
As lucid as cool
Your eyes are so true
Limpid...to look through
They're the right path
Into your heart
They're the bright light
That chase the night.
You're an evening pleasant
With a sunset brilliant
The sweetest nectar
Of scented flowers
Your crisp tresses
Pitch as raven's
Is filled with flavor
Of sweetly odor
Your lips are crimsoned
Lush, sure and softened
Your teeth and tongue
Are well informed
Your chin as this
Is naught but bliss
And your fragile neck
Is a tender beck
Your chest is blest
Adorn with breasts
So full and firm
My soul they charm!
Your form is goodly
Your person is comely
This belle of my country
Petit, pruned and sultry.
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