Casting the richest rainbow,
A princess-cut diamond could not be your match.
Barely a fraction of the glow
Your rose-hued skin does hold
Shadows the delicacy
Of an angel's God-given halo.
No cornflower, birthed from sapphire, would be even
One half as excellent as your arresting eyes. Then,
If a craftsman may spin sugar with gold, into a waterfall
Of fluid spider's-silk... Well,
I would laugh. For you,
Your hair - it will forever be softer to the touch.
That white willow-whip body...
No more beautiful would it be
If Poseidon adorned it
With the luminescence of a new pearl's sheen.
Hewn from perfection, you would be nothing -
Nothing more than this finch note gilded in sunshine.