she is quite the queen,     
although unbeknownst to her. 
the days brighten with one smile     
her laugh a ringing bell 
of angelic measure, not of here     
she is the exception in a crowd 
the fire to everyone's uncaring ice    
is held wihtin her hands 
not hasty to judge but then again    
 never judging anyone, anytime 
If eyes could provide a window's view    
deep within someone     
hers would be looking out     
to the waning moments of dawn 
or an eagle's sight atop a perch 
set high above the green sea at day's break 
her lips do speak the language of beauty 
while not even one can understand     
for egoism is the vernacular 
these eyes, of a goddess    
deserving of a regal throne 
yet, she wears a crown of dandelions upon her head 
but even then, emotion overtakes my doubts- 
and, somehow, it is definite that my love for her is perpetual