There is at times a darkness in the sky
in the lines and the shadows of the clouds
that bleed into the braes that range us in
and color the very horizon in fears.
I see her watching and weaving this darkness
into patterned purpose shrouding her thoughts
and I so wish to turn her gaze far away
from the clinging stinging soul of doubt.
For it is clear to me that she doesn’t know.
She looks at herself so unappealingly
unapologetically rejecting her very being
her skin her bones her hands and bands
all of which i love and know so well to love.
Quite suddenly her smile will vanish fitfully
fingering tresses without even noticing
how gloriously her loveliness rises above
the maliferous banality of the world of man.
But she? She truly does not know.
Yet I would have her know, have her know
so much better how skillfully her heart
sings hymns of love and longing and joy
that make my very heart to tremble.
I would have her see herself as I do
this beauteous woman most fair and airfully
attending the verdure ripe with wine and song
caressing the leaves of each needful tree.
Though still she does not know.
My love gently breathes lilies into bloom
and teaches the water fairies to dance in tune
while the world around her harkens and hails
this pail and prettiest of maidens true.
And though she may not know all of this yet
but I will most gladly quite madly spend my life
teaching her how fine and wonderful and worthy
she is to be loved as love was truly meant to be.