She's key to the prison isolating my heart.
She's purest of joy one can ever know, 
Angels dance at the edges of her heart, allergic to lies honesty is her pride.
Suffocated by ropes of sorrows, she untied them and climb to lands of jubilation.

Her smile awakens the smell of roses,
Clearing the fog of uncertainty.
A treasure worth forfeiting life for.
Enticing,alluring, comely, serene and mesmeric lady.

She's a lover, the light in the dark, a kind gentle heart sordid hands cannot reach.
The mind floods with memories shared —the heart, dried by old tears
and scarred by past lovers,
yearns again for her touch.

In that moment,
descending into a drunken mess,
he tried to grasp at the moon but stumbled over his own soul,
what might have become or may have been,
ours is not to tell,
nor is there rhyme or reason,
for betwixt the threshold of darkness and a flickering candle,
the beacon to the lost is sometimes found,
inwardly looking at the reflection within,
not with standing the image without,
all is but a dream.