The sunshine,
The pain.
The light,
The dark that bites.
Her fine,
My coarse.
Her untameable soul,
My awkward presence.

The smile of a thousand suns,
Her face of similarity to a Goddess.
Five years.
Five years.

And it is her.

Jemima

Infinite in mystery
Is the gift of the goddess
We seek it thus
And take it to the sky
Ripples form on the water's surface
The wandering soul
Knows no rest

.
Blooms of hair, shimmers and starlight,
Face of dream, gathers in lighted loom,
Wakes of morn, spotty forest fawn, child
To magi moon, maid of golden orchards,
Of faraway seas, world opened vastness,
Temptress of foreign fruits and the giving
Sun, where blue, blood oranges old, ripen,
The dark vines grape of ancient olive, red
Lamb and wine.

What enchanted lands are you made of?
Where the diving seas of dolphin, sponge
And whirlpool weave, wherein Gods must
Have loved and making you, left this earth
In beauty and peace, burnished with dream.