The Lady Dressed In Red

Paradise is of her eyes as an unspoken bliss sits above 
Where hearts are drawn upon the cheeks 
Othose that yearn for love.

In view a fool who claims to be a poet 
That only has a quill for a tongue 

For the words that he wishes to versify tends to fumble at his door
And in the presence of the one who he has grown to adore
She that is forevermore unlike that beloved fallen Lenore

Dumbified is the petrified soul infatuated by heaven's vivified chosen rose
Together with woes those...

That where left to a blind man all alone to dread 
 Thus surely but surely will these other flowers come to envy the lady dressed in red
The author of a writer's inspiration 
Locked within his mind and of his thoughts an image to wed...

Lovely, is it not to witness such an enchanting creature, 
My, overly blessed is this world it would seem
Truly she is elegance personified as all works of art should ever be 

So delicate much like her own alluring smile, angelic
Meant only there to compel me  
I pity those that have not yet seen her, 
...Hence why sympathize for the unfortunate who will not get a chance to see 

~ Paradise's Poet ~

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