My Thoughts

I cannot stop looking over, Just across the way, At a four-leaf clover Personified fimininely:--. Dainty and all too perfect, Designed statuesquely, Glistening, smooth marble, Carved by Michelangelo's hand, Which was guided by God's. Her features are soft, And she is very gentle. Hair of silk flows like the Breath of the wind And cascades over her Beautiful face, her blue eyes, Pink cheeks, and full lips. She stands as a princess, But destined she is to be A queen to a man who surely Will feel undeserving Of this bright, shining star. She blooms like the flowers Upon her summery dress. A time ago I felt myself To be a monster, allowing Thoughts of lust to stew Within. But they dissipate. Thoughts of wonderment Arise, thoughts of beauty, Amazement, astonishment, Appreciation, benevolence, And mystery replace what Was once of something Utterly disgusting, immoral. I am overcome with joy-- A strange joy, one never Felt across this particular Way. The distance has Closed yet never moved. While I hand the reigns To Emotion, who is excitable, I still feel it necessary That I declare I may have Fallen in the arms of love. 'Tis a shame.