Of flattery and charm, little messages
Of the kind that, were they weapons, would sit
In pride at the centre of the arsenal
And strike with awe a common musketeer.
And yet they do not suffice. No list would,
Or could, do justice, braced even with a
Phalanx of superlatives in any
Attempt to capture your beauty’s description.
This mighty pen has long been short of words,
And I feared a fall upon a lesser sword,
So please accept this page of simple print
For love, not fancy words, created it.