Courtney Brown
ENG 312 February 13, 2003
My Beloved stands before me, his beautiful face pale and blank.
He hides his emotions so well, but his eyes, dark and blue as the Midnight Sea, reveal the turmoil within his immortal soul.
His hair is pale and long, soft as the first snowfall.
He radiates light from within, the pure beautiful light of his unending life.
His fingers are slender and soft, capable of bestowing his tender love on my body, and bitter pain on the bodies of his enemies; his bow sings often and never misses.
His keen eyesight is perfect to witness the stars of passion in my eyes; His sharp Elven ears need not strain to hear my whispers of tenderness in the dark.
"Thou art my sun, my moon, my stars," I say. "Heaven is most unfortunate; it will never have such an angel as thee set foot on Its lovely plane."
He smiles as he takes me in his arms, the sadness present now on his ageless face. "Thou art my everything; my love for thee blossoms and grows great so as to eclipse even the oldest, most wizened tree in the forest," he tells me, his soft voice as clear and musical as the wind whistling a sad song through his beloved trees.
I cannot help but wonder, though, will this love fade? As I grow old and wither, will he love me forever, or will the light fade from his ocean-blue eyes, the luster pass from his flawless skin? Will he still profess his love to me, as I begin to fade and die while he is still young and full of life?
Tears come to his eyes as he strokes my face and my dark hair, even longer than his, and I know he will. I know he will love me long after I have gone from this world, until through his unended grief and the passing of all his long years, he too will wither and his light will pass from this world to join me in those Sacred Halls.
ENG 312 February 13, 2003
My Beloved stands before me, his beautiful face pale and blank.
He hides his emotions so well, but his eyes, dark and blue as the Midnight Sea, reveal the turmoil within his immortal soul.
His hair is pale and long, soft as the first snowfall.
He radiates light from within, the pure beautiful light of his unending life.
His fingers are slender and soft, capable of bestowing his tender love on my body, and bitter pain on the bodies of his enemies; his bow sings often and never misses.
His keen eyesight is perfect to witness the stars of passion in my eyes; His sharp Elven ears need not strain to hear my whispers of tenderness in the dark.
"Thou art my sun, my moon, my stars," I say. "Heaven is most unfortunate; it will never have such an angel as thee set foot on Its lovely plane."
He smiles as he takes me in his arms, the sadness present now on his ageless face. "Thou art my everything; my love for thee blossoms and grows great so as to eclipse even the oldest, most wizened tree in the forest," he tells me, his soft voice as clear and musical as the wind whistling a sad song through his beloved trees.
I cannot help but wonder, though, will this love fade? As I grow old and wither, will he love me forever, or will the light fade from his ocean-blue eyes, the luster pass from his flawless skin? Will he still profess his love to me, as I begin to fade and die while he is still young and full of life?
Tears come to his eyes as he strokes my face and my dark hair, even longer than his, and I know he will. I know he will love me long after I have gone from this world, until through his unended grief and the passing of all his long years, he too will wither and his light will pass from this world to join me in those Sacred Halls.