“Behold, You are Fair, My Love!”

Mane flows in the wind: a brilliant sculpture; and she smiles
Mango—a whiff of peach; and we dance lime, a ghostly
Touch; and every beat, a recognition. She gaits the mind, a
Fulgent stream; and rushing waves—flood the soul; and

Sunny tears, a silent joy; and biblic love, a rite of yore. My
Scarlet heart, we must elope—and flee the sin—of summer
Lust; and bulbs of love, a winter warm: a wealth of light,
A heart to swarm; and caution love, a subtle storm: a

Crooked crane: a wicked form. Indeed a war—to harness
Life; and bleeding wings, the deepest grain; and dear beloved,
The cloth of faith: a fervent mind: the jeans of fate; and
Garden grace, a gust of love: the scarf of hope: the prayers
Of doves; and phantom ink, a scripted soul: a tender heart:
A vision sewn.