Immune To Wrinkles In Time Poem by Samuel Richard Leonard

Her hair is the sky in thick brush of black,
dancing like the leaves the trees now lack,
for they riddle the ground soft in their sound,
and such as the roots so am I bound.

Her eyes smolder like honey on fire,
flickering like the burning wick of desire
casting a mellow sweetness in the dark
and as the moon guides the tides so does she pull on my heart.

She is stoic as a proper shadow under the morning sun,
casting shade when she rises as the day's still young,
even so she does sway like that early mist,
gentle in a fragrant breeze and soft like her kiss.

With a smile like a waxing moon holding onto night's sky
she's the best of it all, all throughout time,
and though slowly it'll impose pushing us aside
and she may come to lack that luster when held in my eyes
none can age the pulchritude permeating from her mind.
- Samuel Richard Leonard