Those eyes awash with a silver lighting
Make a full moons dullness not compensate
They tell joyless stories of endless grace
One that’s well deceived by a lovely face
One that’s caused angels to drown in lust and awe
But nay theirs not is she, their tears now rain
Her skin so smooth and radiant she bathes.
But my minds eye is not alone in thought
Others come and go but one is still sought.
So day by day my sorrow heart will cry
Of longing, lasting, until she is mine.
Yet taste for this and that sways constantly.
So if her heart is so to be confined
Then another maiden, I will make mine.