She speaks to me in riddled rhyme,
Melodic verse, and metered line.
Voice so pure, as if not spoken
Only thought, timing unbroken.

I hold her dear, a mystery
As I love none, not even me.
Her beauty, beyond perfection,
Her love, my only obsession.

Would I give that which she gives me,
I would my soul, so that she could be.
For she is my sun, my sky, my trees,
She is my only love, my lady...