Molly
Though Winter grips the world in talons of deadly ice A mere glimpse of her liberates one’s spirits from its frigid vise Flinging forth romantic minds far ahead to Spring To tender fantasies of flowers blooming, and birds yet to sing She, the Rose Princess Tending her garden across the way Tirelessly in the blueblack predawn Trimming thistles and pruning thorns Majesty, oh majesty, how I wish you’d stay… Her face is an immaculate painting, as if Beauty defined Every detail delicately sculpted; the magnum opus of God’s own mind Eyes of melted chocolate set in skin of richest cream Framed by bouncing oakwood tresses right from a faerie's dream Barque and brig, two ships pass in the dawn, As I set to start my day hers draws down just as surely, She shrugs on her coat silently And floats away on gossamer wings Dissipating into the sunrise, like a dream ended too early.