Who is this vision of beauty? Gently gliding towards me on feathered wings of heavenly grace.
Has my heart ceased to burn its flame.
For surely angels are the property of heaven, and mortal eyes are not worthy to receive your wonder.
But may I be so bold, as to take your hand in my own,
or will such a delicate flower wilt with my touch.
Truly there is a God, for such beauty cannot be the creation of man.
Dare I asky you your name, or is it a sin to hear wods from your lips,
if it is then do not speak, and silence shall be your title,
for I would rather live in a world deprived of sweet melody, for my eyes will have been blessed from above.
And now I can die a fulfilled man, for on a single night,
I could steal you away from heaven and call you my own.
