You are a flower in full bloom,

As if, through a mist, a first loom;

You are a fine line that holds beauty

So fragile it seems, yet so pretty.

You are the wind that grace the meadows

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Of thoughts and lights up the weary shadows;

You are the sun after the night

That lights up everything in sight.

Of life, you are much of a mirth

As if the joy that welcomes birth,

A beauty personified in earth

A Locke of immeasurable worth.

You are the viand for the men’s eyes

Bread for their souls, subject to their lies.

You should be the envy of all women

With skin so delicate as linen.

You are the life that sprouts in spring

And all the joys that life brings.

You are the song the nightingales sing;

The melody on a lyre’s string.

You can make a goddess jealous

And make a mortal over-zealous,

You’re the ditties of a million ink;

You soften warriors with just a wink.

You are the reason why now I write

These simple lines so soft and lite.

Yet, no amount of art can, e’en for a while

Describe the true beauty bestowed on your smiles.

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