You, my love, are the fleur-de-lis.
The offspring of innocence
The embodiment of purity
Silk are your eyes
For they look on with such suppleness
The lustre of your soul is reflected through those windows
Fair is your heart
For it reverberates much passion
Much tenderness; much hope
It loves profound
With the suave movements of your heartbeat
Another tender petal falls
A touch softer than a summer's evening breeze
Warmer than early morning's first rays
More comforting than a new-born's first motherly embrace
A touch more hauntingly beautiful than nature's grace
Une petite fleur, merveilleuse et vraie
Fragrance of divinity
Simplistic beauty
Constantly blooming; forever beguiling
You, my darling, are the fleur-de-lis.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 2:58 PM UTC
You, my love, are the fleur-de-lis.
The offspring of innocence
The embodiment of purity
Silk are your eyes
For they look on with such suppleness
The lustre of your soul is reflected through those windows
Fair is your heart
For it reverberates much passion
Much tenderness; much hope
It loves profound
With the suave movements of your heartbeat
Another tender petal falls
A touch softer than a summer's evening breeze
Warmer than early morning's first rays
More comforting than a new-born's first motherly embrace
A touch more hauntingly beautiful than nature's grace
Une petite fleur, merveilleuse et vraie
Fragrance of divinity
Simplistic beauty
Constantly blooming; forever beguiling
You, my darling, are the fleur-de-lis.
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