Time doth stand still, whilst thou art in mine arms,
The moon itself doth cease to cross night's sky,
As Luna's glow cedes to thy welkin charms,
In wond'rous awe, the sparkle of thine eyes,
Ignites mine soul, Fair Rose, in passion's fire,
I espy thy eidetical vision,
Mine eyes, they drink from well of thy desire,
And am sated by depth of thy passion.
I smell the fragrant scent of heaven's bloom,
Caress thy skin, sweet grace of supple limb,
Thy tender voice, in warmth mine heart entomb,
With songs of muse, My Rose, my seraphim.
But then the morn, sweet sorrow of goodbye,
As wait the night, to touch upon the sky.
[This message has been edited by Mike (edited 02-15-2000).]