A Rose of Beauty Herself

At times the flower visits during the day,
When the sun is long risen 
And evil spirits are dismayed,
It is at this peaceful hour
That my sorrows are kept at bay,
I listen to her song,
I watch her petals as they sway.

In the evening light
When the sun and moon are dancing,
I behold her form now clearly,
vines twisting and turning,
A beauty of divine colours,
To stand in her presence is an honour.

With a voice as tender as the moving water
that trickles down the grass to the lake
when the sky brings forth its tears,
A feminine creature of beauty’s incarnate,
much wiser than all of her years.

With a form so sweet, so lovely and fair,
To reach out to touch her may taint her pure heart’s fate
–

A sin I will lot dare.

–
So I do nothing but lie awake and stare.

This night, I hope she’ll knock on my door,
And come to me as she appeared the night before,
So that I may look upon her closely,
Gazing into those eyes with nothing but awe.