My Love I have tried with all my might to grasp a form comparable to thine own
Yet nothing seems worthy.
I know now why Shakespeare could not compare his Love to a summer’s day.
It would be a crime to denounce the Beauty you have with in.
To simplify your vast array of qualities that God has granted you with seems unworthy of you my love.
Each facet of your being weather it be Physical or spiritual is an ensnarement from which
There seems to be no release.
Yet I wan to stay in this ecstasy of entrapment forever with you and our being one.
CH.
