My Love

[Tigonfre]

This poem speaks of a fair lady, a woman that is my love.

Sweet fragrance, of perfume excelling,

Marvelous vision, of a form demanding.

Wavy hair, woven of a divine flair,

Alluring lady, of an elegance so fair.



Forms adorned with heavenly quality,

Beauty pleasing to the eye with regality.

Colors, shapes, sounds, a resounding bell,

Fountain of youth, springing a powerful well.



Silky hands made of a consoling touch,

Stout feet that stand in Peruvian rock.

O, delirious weakness, my Achilles' heel,

Heart of fire, thoughts that stand still.



Seductive eyes, pleasure without measure,

Olives devouring with a delectable azure.

Otherworldly dame graced in enduring fame,

Only sight enkindling the passionate flame.

Without being Shakesperian this poem has a genuinely old English feel to it in my opinion, but in a good way. The words are elegant and gracious and you have used them in all the right places. The only negative aspect to the poem that I could mention is that the rhyme scheme does not serve a clear purpose, but otherwise it's a flawless poem.