The Folklores of Her Beauty

I've harkened to the fables of her grace
whose beauty no one even dared to replace.

I've heard that she traipses in subtle elegance
trampling several hearts that seek her countenance.

I've harkened to the Sonatas of her beauteous grace
whose movements bring blushes to her beautiful face.

I've heard that her words flow in a poetic stream,
that transcends the souls into a sublime dream.

I've heard that her eyes guide the darkness of night
by decreeing the stars to shine pure and alight.

I've harkened to the tales of her raven tress
whose darkness allures ghosts, attracting much distress.

In the morn, she's girdled by the flutter byes
and in the night, her tresses dwell several fireflies.

I've harkened to the accounts of her beauty's expanse
that oft burns several fervours in the furnace of Romance.

I've heard that some eyes still remember her smile
whose curves capture myriad sunsets worthwhile.

I've harkened to the legends about her dance
whose elegance would urge angels to pause and glance. 

Moon would argue with the stars to step down
from the Throne and offer her the beautiful Crown.

In the markets, Revolutionaries often discuss her
circulating rumours that Aphrodite is jealous of her.

One glance destroyed the caravans of many a heart
so even the travelers pass by, keeping their eyes apart.

Yet I fear, will words capture her beauty's extent?
Will they express the depths of what I felt?

For she is more than my rhymes can convey,
a heavenly masterpiece, in every single way.