Those bless'd cheeks
Are donned by God
As angels seek
Their latest garb
A rose would be
Confused as such
If ever seen
Beside your blush
A sacred tune
Erupts from when
A kiss is due
To praise your skin
The finest silk
The fur of cubs
Are not the ilk
Of your soft love
I'd gladly brace
A thousand thorns
To brush your face
But once each morn
And fear thee not
For age would come
And I'll have caught
The two-for-one
Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 7:23 AM UTC
Those bless'd cheeks
Are donned by God
As angels seek
Their latest garb
A rose would be
Confused as such
If ever seen
Beside your blush
A sacred tune
Erupts from when
A kiss is due
To praise your skin
The finest silk
The fur of cubs
Are not the ilk
Of your soft love
I'd gladly brace
A thousand thorns
To brush your face
But once each morn
And fear thee not
For age would come
And I'll have caught
The two-for-one
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