You are not
my love alone,
nor are you just
obsession mine.
You are that lovely
Premonition,
that drew from me
whe words I wrote,
for you to comw
and flesh them out,
so I could then
in worship fall,
in hope that you
shall lift me up.
Note: This is when the beloved was not even on the horizon, but words came along in wait of her. And when she came along they wrapped themselves around her form, and like a queen they dressed her up.