My Love
My Love
Thought tells me you are no more fair
than sunlight seen through dappled leaves,
your walk bears no more startling grace
than fawns at play in morning air.
The colors of your cheek no more surprise
than flowers on a wild green hill
and stars amaze the velvet night
As much as I am by your eyes.
Your touch falls no more gently down
than butterfly upon the rose,
the Celtic harp at twilight sounds
as lovely as your voice at dawn.
A lingering Summer's day in June
spreads as much warmth as does your smile.
Strands of your hair combine with no more grace
than branches dancing beneath the Moon.
But thought compares what it can see,
Heart hears songs that thought can never see.
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