Under my finger tips,
The marble of her body gave way to my skin.
She is something so beautiful,
She could only be art.

I, a pitiful patron to her presence,
Could not have imagined her existence.
Yet here I am in a dream so wonderful it is cruel,
If I ever am awakened I will never experience better.

I open my eyes each morning,
As if by a miracle-
She is still there.