She Who Is Milk White
Speak your thoughts dearest daffodil,
for each breath of mine gives you life.
If only you knew of what I had to kill,
so that you can forever be my wife.
Ships have sailed from far away seas,
merchants have traded in their stock.
For you to feel this fair summer's breeze,
on your once marbled face of rock.
The pedestal beneath you exists no more,
freedom awaits like a mother's embrace.
The sun may bathe you by the shore,
covered in a white satin robe of lace.
I dabbled your lips with sweetened honey,
your China white skin not yet warm.
You wish for a kiss under skies so sunny,
and will nestle by me during a storm.
A drop of rainwater hits your eye lashes,
and light enters your soul from every place.
The cast of your prison turns into ashes,
and you pull my hand to your smiling face.
Galatea, the angles have yet to name,
that unreal hue of golden suckled lips.
Restore my passions so you may tame,
this tortured heart of true love's eclipse.
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