She is like a red, thorn-stricken rose,
A beauty prized inside my garden,
Her body, like the petals, gracefully flows,
Movement preventing the coldest heart to harden.

I could be undoubtfully mistaken,
For my eyes play tricks, like mischievous young boys,
Making it rather difficult to awaken from a dream,
Or escape from a well planned ploy.

Only time will tell us, if it is meant to be,
Fate will bring my real soulmate, at a moment of overwhelming darkness,
The strong waves are beating against the shore, and back out to sea,
Until I meet perfection, wearing a white linen dress.

However, don't let the oppourtunity to find her pass you by,
Especially when it presents itself in the blue sky.