As You Wish

I send you words, my love, I send you lists
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.