Your Colorful Crown
Your nature is a painting that gives birth to each warm hue.
My nightingales are free among your clouds and skies.
Your sweet soul and my brother: I live only for these two.
And thoughts of your kind kiss, no earthly thing defies.
I have grown to be a spearman
Of your right hand, noblewoman.
Wife or maiden; your grace will gain my servitude
Because your understanding warmth's a rose skirt
Of soft and chaste loving that I couldn't hurt,
Where beasts yearn to give your heart due gratitude.
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