I run around where I have seen,
All where she has mustered up herself.
Two little petals upon isolated cheeks,
Two dynasties upon a feared woman,
And I would kiss them away,
Were she to never draw herself away.
Like two pillars of porcelain.
Like embedded rocks of blue.
And a haze of green is all I’ve seen,
In forests dressed in silk,
In verdure laid in a mother’s milk,
Of green upon the deepest white of her form,
Dressed only in the tragedy to her woeful heart.
What am I?
I am but a human,
Whose light is frozen,
For I cannot cast it,
When my shadow is the warmth.