Eyes of an elderly tamed heart,
bear wisdom,
Obsession of a youthful man's start,
devour his kingdom,
Enlighten me.
For I thought I knew beauty,
Before hers.
In her existence her softness,
Is in that that the sweetest thing cannot dismiss.
Her womanness,
In her presence,
Is in that that the common man cannot reminisce.
Her speech for what intent she preaches,
a believe starts,
So that in return bliss can be found in hearts.
She admits to flattery from my novelties,
As I bear witness to her heart ingest.
She is made of all the sweetest things.
What colors mix into,
What delight and pleasure come into,
What imagery glitters to,
What ignorance of flaws filters to,
What bliss is circled into,
All the sweet things.
YOU ARE READING
To My Beloved(Poetry Book)
PoetryPoems to a Lover. " Say to me, That my love is the truth, And your doors are open to me. Bliss that has no words to define. Dreams that leave no darkness to hind sight."
