muse
He thought her an angel,
Fey like and faerie in his mind
So Ethereal she all but floated.
It made her the woman of his dreams
As vapor trails the breath on a foggy day
So with her, a sense of gossamer veils
Faint and feminine but strong
With strength of silk spun by spiders
His muse, had the stuff
Drifting high on his cloudy pedestal
No earth could hold her
nor iron will
no mold could form her sky
Reblogged this on jamesmatthewbyers and commented:
Excellent work!
thank you, i was so nervous