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TATIANA Ivanovich

Updated on August 17, 2009

Slowly

Her eyes began to shine brightly

as I watched golden dust of despair

fall from her truly beautiful raven hair

skin so soft and fair.

Now my heart is laden

for my distant maiden.

To her jeweled shore

I wish to reach to adore

and embrace her

angelic face

I alone undress her and gently caress her

nothing but I, a squire, who desires

to stand beside his Queens fire

 

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    Am I dead, yet? 7 years ago

    Michael,

    I loved this line:

    'nothing but I, a squire, who desires

    to stand beside his Queens fire'

    This sounds like a very lucky lady.

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    Author

    Michael Achilles 8 years ago

    Thank You Brenda..........

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    \Brenda Scully 8 years ago

    i really like this poem