Mine own I\'ve so truest ...oh how canst I compare thee unto precious bloom so tenderest. ..Thy caresse is that of deft glancing touch as though t\'were butterfly\'s gossamer wing upon mine own brow fevered ..for t\'is it so that a sweet sickness hath encompassed mine own entirety ..thou art as beauteous as dawning sunlight which doth dance radiant upon silken waters of millpond calmness ...though smile doth illuminate the heavens and yes verily doth I proclaim even more brighter than the sun and the moon as they take their places upon their own thrones ..yes thy beauty doth outshine these ..though sweet scented body it doth hold of me in rapturous possess ..Oh thy fingertips doth play melancholy delights upon mine own flesh .for thence in turn doth I stroke thee deftly as though thou art creation of finest artwork ..mine own hands doth run over thy akin of soft alabaster. ..Our souls doth beckon one unto another in unity eternal .for t\'is there within one another\'s arms thence we two belong and thou art mine own paradise er\'emore ...