Bright flashing eyes, a blush upon her cheek,

this vision that impales me every day,

and ties my tongue, yet nothing I could say

would set me free when she begins to speak.

The sound of her, the scent of her, unique;

the way she moves a classical ballet,

and all the world around her seems so grey

while she is vivid, coloured with mystique.

How is it that she weave...

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