Adoration - I:

Ah! Alas!

Doth my lady’s hand shiver?

Stammer perhaps; nah waver over my skin,

Had that been truth

Or was my weak mind

Playing tricks again.

A meek; flame of a smile

Graced her lips whilst leaving

Embers in my eyes

Like an angel

Bright with heavens glory

Sorrowed in white lights

She sat before me, still as a leaf

Muddled with thin lace, ice will cling to eyelashes

Come Decembers fortnight

When everyone retreats

Escaping the snow leopards

Predatory gaze

That is the season, the season when her eyes

Truly shine bright

Sometimes even devilish in the full caress

Of the pure white–Moonlight–

I wonder how such a marvel

Ended up here, in this dank

And cold, foreboding mountainside

An angel who has undoubtedly

Been pushed from grace

Aligned herself with Lucifer Himself perhaps

Oh! I can see that true

For if so I would surely sign away

My soul if in return

I received an eternity beside her