She is becoming As she hast ameliorated mine pang's; Her radiance is chatoyant She melt's mine thought's, with her dusk black and wet bang's.
ii.
Her bungalow is mine own Bucolic and historically hidden; We're passionate in ourn dwelling The walls brushed with ourn amour', tucked between ceiling's.
iii.
Memorabilia she keepeth Of her childhood in a small room; I stareth at her adolescent memory photo's Thinking God made her on the moon.
iv.
Feeling how blessed I am With mine Jane, neath her plume's; Her wing's stretch out, north to south A defense from demon crew's.
v.
A exemplar to the Almighty architect The embodiment to all mine livelihood; She's the road to peace, from west to east On mine knee's I looketh to her, I kisseth her feet.