When will decay defeat her beauty's flair?
For many - an eclipse has turned the night
and left no token seam for her to bear,
unless our maiden moon has stilled my sight.

Her grace within may blind my wrinkled browse
and render form and smile to greater wealth
and trance me in a state where she allows;
each breath of love - within it's truest self.

Tho' morning's glow appears a solar truth;
that from the amber beams her skin renews.
Ah no, I'm in the haze of lover's youth!
For I've become a temple to my muse.

Then I shall live her grandest, bright allure!
And ever young she'll be, mine eyes assure.