Her eyes are limpid pools
of dew-drops and reflected memories
refracted through phantom tears
The edges of her eyes
hold the strain of smiling
through painful years
Her hips are rounded half-moons
fiery and provocative for their very lack
of projected provocation
Her hands make worlds
And thus have no need for pretention
Her smile shines brighter than
Apollo’s chariot
more prevalent, and lasting longer still,
than the rays of the sun
As her hair splays in way that reminisce
of rays, in waves away
from the definition of beauty,
…as I stare at her face
And face fantasies
of Egyptian-skinned babies
with eyes slanted
from staring in adoration
at my vision
of what it is that the Sun wishes to be
For her beauty shines from within
animating the beauty of the skin
before she even deigns to open her eyes
…To see such a one cry
is a crime of such magnitude
as to banish a dry eye
Her eyes slant in my direction
with secrets far older than the Orient,
and more painful than would make sense
But, miraculously, she has weathered the storm
…and Shee loves me…

-Please don’t take my Sunshine away-
God