She is the tapestry...

[Se****]

She is a weaving of bright gold and night,
A quiet fire burning soft and deep,
A sudden spark of wild and tender light,
A ***ted dream that wakes us from our sleep.

Her hands hold grace, her eyes are deep and wide,
A map of wonder written on the skin,
Where ancient truths and quiet longings hide,
And where the tides of passion first begin.

With every thread of shadow and of gleam,
She binds the longing in a mortal heart,
A living poem and a waking dream,
Where soul and beauty never grow apart.

The colors that grace her ivory skin,
How MY gaze can never falter,
The vibrant contrast of the thick and thin,
As I begin to consume her on the altar.