Her hair falls wild
Rhapsodic flows of wind,
Veracious, eyes reflecting
Taken Earth's embodiment

Whose tears form streams
By her gravity to wrest
-- such poetry of shapes --
At the corners of her lips

This day the world remembered
The taste of beauty, re-awoken
To our sunbirds screaming
"Fans of summer blow hot winds"

My motion within her color
That I anew began,
Celebrating conducivity
As the new enlightened man

Across the room she layed there
And I, within our touch
enculcate in her beauty
unfolding life as much

Loving Muse delivered
From this tragic eminence,
Your portrait is perfection
If there could be such precedence.
Your portrait, it looked like a lamb
a look of innocence upon the countenance
traced with the petulance that goddesses may demand

nice!