Her lips are sweet like honey
Dripping, ichor glossed.
Her hair is brightest sunlight
Divinity embossed.
Her fingers soft and nimble
Teasing music from the air
Pressing pictures onto pages
Twisting in my hair.
Her mind is summer lilacs
full of quiet bees.
Her eyes are steadfast earth
comfort beneath my knees.
She is not quite human;
nor home among divine
Her love is worth a million souls
Her love is worth all mine.
I have none to wish for
even less to give
But her prayers stain my trembling lips
It is for her I live.
