For A Woman, Whose Beauty I Admire Comments

Her visage is the harvest moon with rose petals, unfurled, into soft red lips and the autumn foliage adorns her head.
She’s the October sky, with all the multi-colored pinks and oranges kissed upon her cheeks
Beauty like hers is of memory, it’s of past times, engraved on marble someplace off shore
Beauty like hers is gone and missed, it’s gone with all the goddesses of past myths, and it’s gone with all the woodland nymphs- that lived before our time.
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