Who would have thought that perfection was palpable.
Angel speck-less, man can touch, unbelievable!
Beauty wrapped in flesh, the panacea to man’s
sore heart is found. I can see her. I truly can!
God’s paradigm for creation of women does live.
Her hips are perfect, and her breast substantive;
Tantalizing men, young, and old, to taste of her,
But of the blood of Mary, she is a flower
Uncut, and her nectar is saved for one bee, who
She will wed and become his queen, he - her lord. True
Virtue that transcends into the ethereal. Touch
From heaven, on earth. To whom Herculean much
Efforts were made; where men genuflect in request
To be her lord. But tame, they cannot this lioness
For her heart is unto her like her children.
And I am truly blessed to have her as my friend.
But masked within me are hidden secrets of love -
Undying - for her: my Mona Lisa, above
All other she is to me. So kneeling I pray
That her heart would open to us someday.
Until then, I wait with closed palms, relishing her
All - hoping that I am the bee for this flower.
Then she would be my queen. Now till that moment,
I will be hers to have, and forever.