When she appears, dawn hides in shame,
It folds it's light.
Her eyes, twin fawns by the stream,
Framed by lashes that haunt like a dream.
I lean toward her as the thirsty lean,
To water’s edge in lands unseen

The font in her eyes—verses untold,
Etched by masters whose pens drip gold.
Each line I trace is a map to her soul,
A script where longing has taken control.

Her voice—like water over stone,
Soft, yet strong, wholly my own.
I need no riches, no kingdom’s throne,
Her smile alone makes the world my home.