Page 11 - The First Letter To My Lady.

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For now, though, I think I just might pen a verse of my own,

as only art could counterbalance art; your presence being

ever so gallery-esque, a virtuosity to thaw mountains of

vapidities. A few verses to weave a path down the beachy

aisles of nostalgia - akin to the sandy shores of your dream

wedding.

Elusive everglade en earnest, earnestly esotericist elegiac eighteenth.

Stormy waits, hazey fates, dire straits & gilded traits.

Saga of a ladylike disposition - celestially innate - steely resolution.

Walked the plank you did, tripwires and eggshells, resolute.

In the white of your eye a determination, astute.

Warrior repute in the face of pontification afoot.

The path of kings, queens, lords & ladies.

The holy grail of academic hades.

Bequeath ‘pon you hereditary - trail of tears, epistemic.

Battlefront of modern measures rallied with copacetic verve.

Bearing the cross à la Coeur de Leon

Hunkered down from taxi lights, city brights, life’s little delights.

Stalwart valor - shall I call her Lady Eve, Galahad, or Godiva?

All I know for sure, diva Miss Eva,

She’s poised to perfection; life-giving as convention Geneva.

Hurt I carry is not for naught,

A tiny drip next to your Ocean of tenacity astound.

So to complain. I won’t, patience abound.

Bound by the minute, the seconds - millis and nanos.

Mirage ephemeral of a rendezvous transcendental

Promised colloquy, damned obloquy - stoic and fetal.