She prepares her wild soul,
with lilacs and lack of fear.
Her heart yearns for a home,
she feels it coming near.
“Come softly, beloved,” she beckons,
“lay your burden upon my breast
scented with lavender
for your weary head to rest.”
Heaven on earth,
her body worships thee,
with kisses sweeter than wine,
God of her idolatry.
Thy soul she will tend
til death and beyond.
Take this poem
as pledge of her love-bond.
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