I would try and describe her,

But the air around me gets colder as my heart moves further away from its purposeful place,
My prelude, oh muse, my dearest darling dancing in my thoughts,
Like Ebenezer’s ghosts she flies with me through places I’ve been,
And shares with me the places I have always wanted to find.

I would try and describe her,

But I only looked on her once,
Of all the time that I allowed,
I stole only one part of one second to fully fill my eyes,
Too narrow of slits to take in all the things I saw in front of them,

Like heat emits from the sun beauty pours from this woman,
Naturally there, overwhelmingly there, endlessly there,
As if beauty swiftly leapt from every cherished thing in this world,
To rest effortlessly within the eyes, the voice, and the smile of this woman,

I would try and describe her,

But description is impossible,
As she belongs in Plato’s cave,
Where perfection is bland and pleasure is boring,
Where merely the thought,
Of another stolen part,
Of another stolen second,
With my emitting sunshine love,
Is painted in rich oils on every surface.