To a Beautiful, Crazy Woman

The gaze of your serpent eyes the appealing of sneaky smiles. The nectar of rosy lips the touch of your healing hands, The chic in your stroll the whiff of wear, The wobble of lions the bloom of your torso, The pride in your parade, Golden wreath of your gullet and these rings in fat fingers, The pricey pendant of your ear the bangles of arm and their clink, The evening of your dishevel the dancing of your braid, The melody in speech and the worry in your ask, He shall be fluky--whoever will wed! I imagine for me the not-on, and sigh! A wavy body that tarts up, a dialect that is murmur, a go-with that is eternal, a walk that is heavenly, a touch that is wine, a mock that is loveful, an escape that is cruel, a feeling that is real, a vow that is sincere!