By Damien Knight
The pale moon is not as bright as your lips,
your smile fades the twinkling starlight.
Nor does the sun stroke like your finger tips,
warm, your hands grip my soul embracing tight.
Your grace spreads a blanket across the night.
Your touch all I need for my heart to race.
Dripping sweet your voice in my ear is right.
Tender sensation with you I have place.
Many claim their love is as Aphrodite,
they have not beheld my dearest lady.
Your radiance divine, your strength mighty,
you, like Helen of Troy, drive men crazy
I would bask forever in my need of you
wearing desire proudly, I love true.