My Own True Love
Within two sandals, lo, my love can stand
or sit upon her hand,
Ah, hand, which, framed with bone, is wrapped within
and some skin.
Yon skin hath many pores intruding there
save for where she shaveth
it hath hair.
Her hair, it is of strands that ofttimes shed
should we say
cascadeth from her head,
A head nigh situated at the top;
the front of which
her face doth start and stop:
A face with eyes to see and mouth to speak
and one large nose to
Predominant that nose, from tip to crest,
like an eagle
o'er her breast
Her heaving breast, distinctly strap't apart,
beneath whose folds
one true heart
That heart, hale pumping, circulateth juices
between her nose
and her cabooses,
Cabooses restful most whene'er she's seated.
So now the image
of my love
hath been completed.
To you, dear reader, now should be quite plain
the reason that I worship
- Richard Hacken