The sunlights shadow gleams upon your face,
as if God had crafted it himself,
yet he took longer than just six days,
because you were not some model on the shelf...
Your skin stole what smoothness silk once had,
and your hair rolls like thunder off your shoulders
your voice would make birds jealous and mad,
while I merely listen and crave.
I hunger for your words to fill me,
fill my love's insatiable thirst,
to hold me is to set me free,
but I must find you first.