Picture

Had I known a moment so true,
At hand that times beheld;
Unspeakable composure lit,
Blended all in crimson gaze.

Two steps in front and now
I hear the words palying.
Lines flow like summer wind,
Ardent, of burning desire.

Dear me, I was a child!
Stared, did awe the colours,
Had eternity to pour,
Painting pictures of her mind.

Things then gently uttered,
Of beauty she did tell.
Yearned silently to prove
What prettiness is I dreamt.

Could it capture the spotless,
Tenderness and all she was;
Bold though kind her eyes
And the rapture in mine.

 

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