I can but follow on the hint of the scent of your blossom the promise of encaptured rapture within your beauty to last. For how could any not give of all that is of all their heart, loyal in spirit yet remain un-claiming and alas un-claimed beneath the twilight stars. I can but moments chance, and dream to meet your glance until your spirit may come to ask and heal me with the grace of passion entwinded as a living dance. My Muse, I can but love thee so.
