of dew
like turquoise fountain springs
trickles misty rose
in color
on a palette
so, she clings.

And I'd paint her
crimson red,
as she's laying softly
in her whispers
on my moonlit, star borne bed.

As the morning sun
appeals
blowing golden kisses,
honey sweet
and so she kneels.

It's a wonderfully blended
hue
when amber sands
of moonlight
a little shy and blue
sneak up on the twilight
to kiss the morning dew.