Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Reina Hermosa.

Reina Hermosa.

Suffer are my lungs,
Devoid of the wind of her,
The shape of some lines,
A golden syrup on my tongue.

By lofty mountain springs,
Her source and mine,
Combine in one perfect love,
Blown by regal brighter smiles.

Queen for an era,
And never lost but mislaid,
A time beat pauses in fury,
Whilst she recovers my sword.

Thrust into her body,
My light is the essence told,
She shall seek till I'd hold,
All that glitters, her gold.