You spoke in a winter night—so dim
To breathe out a morning’s hallowed hymn.
A soothing smile from a gruesome grim
Born back in time for one more start.

You spoke & turned my winter blues
to garish gleams & glaring hues.
An unrivaled triumphant muse,
To make a saint of my pagan heart.

You spoke, & all misery melt thereby,
bidding all my farewells goodbye.
Conceiving one vivid-future sky.
That vanquished all my past apart.

You spoke into my dark despair,
& lightly eased the lumbering air,
& drew into my soul somewhere.
Some heaven, my soul could never chart.

You spoke & O’ those words you spoke,
Those lips that light with a crimson stroke,
That rave your voice does provoke,
Leaving my soul sedated—awoke,
Leaving my soul by you, sweetheart.
That love, your essence does evoke,
of that tongue you spoke,
O’ how every word’s a work of Art.

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