Tuesday, November 2, 2010

To some one

One whose eyes shine like the sun,
And a mind as sharp as the warriors sword,
If only to look upon his face,
He could pass with out one word,
Then I would count myself the privileged one ,
For with his presence I was graced.
Just one instant to see those eyes,
By which I am enslaved,
Is worth all the agony and toil,
Even unto the grave,
Naught could that instant spoil,
This slave’s enthralled gaze.
Not even in a second’s time,
Did thoughts my mind haze
For so enraptured by this sight,
I dropped down on unworthy knees,
To cast an undeserving eye,
On his angelically forbidding countenance,
To wonder if it’s me he sees is a nonentity to me,
When all that I care to see,
Is the angel who walks forward past.

- Heather Parris

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