One has seen too much of a sight
When she came into the matter called Life.
Thinking she is a goddess, you might.
The perfection, you say, of her is rife.

Leaves fall so slow every time when one's with her.
Those windows of her soul makes one melt.
Her skin is as smooth as the phoenix's feather.
Those touches give one chills when once felt.

Even those strands like silk entangles one.
Ponder Eden when smelling its fragrance.
Light may be brought to one when there's none.
In darkness, one will hold her with opportunity's chance.

Longing for her to come back again to one
When possessing her forever has been undone.