Noah Fulkerson - 2002
In all that spans which I behold,
Few stand so tall for truth be told,
Beauty had surely broke the mold,
When into being: came she.
I said my soul is n'er content,
Should my screams cease I would repent,
A beast I hide and yet to dent,
her tempered amor: patience.
In my presence may praise chime,
My hear would beat joy paradigm,
Sweet love a feast I gladly dine,
Though when gone: birth night.
In my words does mysterey brew,
Who is so precious above and not few,
Beauty beyond all old and new,
This cherished woman: You.
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