Who would call it wrong?

This beauty of the heart like a thousand kettle drums.......

My mad search for you with twin lamps......

My eyes that search every where for you....

The speed with which my breath increases, in a chest.......

Rising and falling with feelings for you.....

Like tides in your milky ocean bed......

The rush of blood to the face which hungers for kisses.........

Why does it feel so right always to me???????

You are perfection, perennial beauty......

Which time dare not touch with his cobwebbed fingers........

You are complete in yourself......

You seek to rest your head on my heart......

Which murmurs to itself your name incessantly......

Like a prayer.......

You in whom everything rests, reverts......

To my constant joy and seeks me out for repose!!!!!?!