Oh my love, let me praise your face—
bright as the moon rising over still skies,
and the depth of your eyes, dark as evening pools,
where I long to sink and taste love’s nectar
as a bee sips from a single blossom.
My love, let me praise your soul.
One day your face will wrinkle and fade,
like brown leaves paling in the first frost;
yet your soul will deepen in love, like a tree
that stands through wild winter after falling last leaf.
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 12:38 AM UTC
Oh my love, let me praise your face—
bright as the moon rising over still skies,
and the depth of your eyes, dark as evening pools,
where I long to sink and taste love’s nectar
as a bee sips from a single blossom.
My love, let me praise your soul.
One day your face will wrinkle and fade,
like brown leaves paling in the first frost;
yet your soul will deepen in love, like a tree
that stands through wild winter after falling last leaf.
