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The Pyrade Mamaid

If her love was a honey comb, I will build petals of Caribbean stones around her,
with flowers beyond the steps of the stairs with alabaster spikelet to flitters sweet savour
If her love was a fairy tale, then the legendary queen Atemis will forecast it, though in
Her mystical myth she will adore our quixical pride aloof the Italian minor
In my banquet of celestial rovers amidst a pavement of jasper ring cutting through the crystal
Beauty of her golden heart.
In my bewildered smile her thought lingered through the chambers of my heart, my soul sang a perplex chorus of erudite minstrel encrypted in the Egyptian suction
We bask in the adulation of her hip story, her timbre breast full of flagons treasures, like the legendary Helen of troy who in adorn of her beauty slain a man who's fate was wreck in her lustful glide;
Awaiting the Trojan War recap, her thought dance through the galaxy of our heart
In aging smile our minds full of mutilating granule glaring through our sceptical face, as she smiled with her flitting glamour of Arabian grace as she danced the throb of the ancient drummer, for she was indeed the pirate mermaid I saw last night.

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