Thy grace, thy beauty, thy smile
How can you look so perfect?
Your hair, your care, thy guile
When you gaze upon me, I feel wrecked.
Could you improve an imperfection?
Alas, what is there to improve of you
Nothing of you I would change, not a section.
You are graceful like morning dew.
You dance like a willow in the morning
Soft, beautiful, flexible.
Yet, you reject me; I see it as a warning
Although a threat, not legible.
You are the sun to my stars,
The healing to all my scars.