Faced with a cheek,
Of rose and ivory together,
Unlike the many splintered faces,
Not rent apart by so many tears,
That you keep beneath the swept reddish hair,
I feel thee, with a weight that pulls, and does not press.
That love can truly dance.
It is, as I’ve seen it, with eyes upon the hands,
At thy waist, and move upwards on paired hips.
Listless was I, in before I knew of this.
Love has been but a berry to be consumed.
I observe, and in what I observe,
Beauty, marvelous beauty.
From the Earth, to the winds,
From the fossils of dead things,
To my lips, to where I give a kiss.
Your face held in my hands,
Your eyes dropping porcelain tears,
Your arms very limp, with legs the same.
Grace has become your last name,
The world makes merry, your beauty.