I kissed lips that were perfect,
her eyes beheld only me as
though we were granted to live
from creation and from birth.
I saw her lips as my fruit,
delectable and without tender
sentiments that must grow,
in order for love to survive.
Hidden within her features was
was stoic beauty, a languishing
charm without which her
personality would expand from
an unseen mirth.
I found mercy in her arms-warm
from rich cardigans that even my
wallet can ill afford. They were not
necessary as my love bore warmth
enough to sustain us-even allowing
passion to thrive.
Her face beheld an everlasting charm
not given to sudden shifts of decision
she leaned contentedly upon the
crook of my arm.
I counted myself lucky even amongst
the most undesirable haunts as I
often desired do, she remains content,
radiant and ever safe from harm.