An emotional wreckage
She brushes her beautiful hair over her ear
Frantic talking ensues in movement of careless hands and lips
All the world is a stage
And world merely a din and a prayer to your quips
Walking in the night of starry ammunition
She is the green light of Auroras
She is my life without contrition
Engrained with intellect she does not please
At least she is not distant darkness
That ensnares purple hearts in entirety
And dwells on love's flaws
She appreciates the imperfections
Therefore she is royal beauty by law
Like the numinous clouds
So far from sad skies with herons
If I fainted from the height of love
She'd enshroud me in her passion with poetic precision
It is in good fashion not precociousness
Volute waters swirl like bokeh
Offering a sacred picture of voluptuousness
Where she semaphores to her inveigled face
An emotional river of gold
She is one who needs to be dredged for industrial progress
Without question or answer such is her worth
It is a shared with the paupers scuttling nearby
Abstracted eyes study mademoiselles
With glühwein and drunk glaucous cocktails
In panem et circenses
Where we share bread we need romance
Such is her glad fairness of my mistress