Feste's Lute

The ink-drawn mark so carefully placed,
The smile upon my upturned face,
The trembling heart, the whispered tune,
they all are born from thoughts of you.

The perfect arch of crimson lips,
The soft, white skin of fingertips,
The ocean eyes, each golden tress,
they all call out for my caress.

The shimmering words so freshly penned,
The laughter brought by a joyous spin,
The subtle pout, the flaming gaze,
they set all doubts and fears ablaze.

The ink-drawn mark,
The perfect arch,
The shimmering words within my heart.

The smile framed by
your soft white skin.
The laughter brought shall never end.

The trembling heart,
the ocean eyes,
The subtle pout you gaze belies.

They all call out,
They all are born,
They all make still the darkest storm.

Each golden tress
of solar blaze,
Does starlight dim and heaven amaze.

In thoughts of you,
both kind caress
and passion hide beneath my breast.