Roses

I stand at the corridors of love holding roses,

A token for my forever sweet valentine,

Most beautiful among the thousands of her kind,

A magic made from elements rare and clandestine,

Shall I talk of the comeliness of her eyes?

Drawing me into a heart pure and pristine,

Or of her smooth glossy lips,

When they hold mine in a sweaty quarantine?

I thought truth was bitter until I heard them from her lips,

Every time she speaks,

I feel like flowers in a gentle blowing breeze,

She spurs in me the ecstasies of kids,

When they gather to hear the tales about fairies,

I love how her gait matches her waist

And how she spell bounds all with the beauty of her hips

Here's for you dear honeymoon,

That come rain, come wind,

I will still be at the corridors of your love,

Holding roses for you in my hands.