Long silver streams adorned throughout her hair.
Her attire doth trail upon the ground.
Divine green lace doth flowing all around.
What beauty treads across the tainted floor!
Her beauteous figure enchants my core.
What witty words departure from her lips!
Undaunted, her hands remain ‘pon her hips.
Her voice: ‘tis music floating upon air.
Tortured silence: no longer shall I bear.
I shall speaketh my words of devotion:
“Come hither, darling angel from above.
Thy fair visage, ‘tis softer than a dove.”
…But what if thou bethinketh me insane?
…Perchance you shall return my vows… What thane?
My tortured soul cries upwards for mercy.
The god above guffaws aloud at me.
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