My pen hath not the ink,
Nor my mind the wit,
To capture here in verse by my hand,
Her Beauty I behold.
Light from an endless star filled sky,
Her eyes.
Countless summer's warm gentle breeze,
Her whisper.
A thousand crystal cool mountain streams,
Her kiss.
Miles of pure white sand beach,
Her smile.
Wave after wave of crashing crimson tide,
Her passion.
Ranges of majestic snow capped mountains,
Her strength.
Deepest and widest of dark blue oceans,
Her love.
All of Creation itself fails to compare,
In the entire depth of Universe,
No single being past or now resides,
Her Beauty I behold.
Trevor P. Fikkert
