This aint a poem ’bout eyes or dyes
nor about boobs, but brains.
And of beauty that never wanes.
Crisp and clear, bright as light.
It shines from within, and glows without.
Like burnished bronze, shining ever,
Its hallowed hue, fading never.
Unlike dying embers from a wounded fire.
And tho mistress time come calling,
and the dark comes, comes to put the lights out,
Your golden glow shall burn till aeons are dust.
Afinity for finity is undone, In the golden light of your beauty,
Strife became evanescent.
And troubles mere shadows.
Like shadows in the dark they were.
So let us leave the world a trail to immortal fun.
as our passion overwhelmes the sun.