She is the vision of the evening twilight,

That falls soft down upon my dreaming mind.

In sleepless wonder I do contemplate

The mystic depths of her enchanting eyes,

And marvel at her visage framed in locks;

The essence of my moonlit trance, so bright

That now I find myself steeped far within.

For all my restless thoughts are wrought distract

With haunting beauty now that holds me fast,

And dare I let my thoughts to wonder out

Like little men to work the field of dreams

And till the garden of imagination,

I scarce could ever come back down to earth,

For she transports me to the cloudless sky,

Where heaven envies my supernal bliss

And all the stars wane by comparison

Such is the image of my love to me

Such is my fate to ever be

For she may not be mine

~j.d.schofield