Odd or even, it does not matter...


Ballad (23)

Bright moon, you pale beside those eyes,
Nor can stars match her smile.
She outshines heaven: Though sun tries,
It is muse who wins trial.

She is my muse: A dryad, rose,
Beauty beyond compare.
Thought of her lights my dreams: Heart knows
No josy save that muse care.

I read, in her words, songs to sound
Within my heart's desire.
Thought of her kiss makes my heart pound;
Of eyes, feeds passion's fire.

I see picture, and want to hold
This woman in my arms.
I dream of eyes, and hope I've told
The power of her charms.

Yet, I awake from dream, and know
Lips will not touch her skin.
Desire does not chance for hopes grow,
Nor can dream true love win.

Beauty alone does not make muse:
Heart must speak to my soul.
I see in her far more, and choose
To make her smile my goal.

21 Aug 2003