Allure Poem by Job Laz

Her smiles prick me like a thorn
Putting to bare the stretch of my passion
Which unearths my spade?
In her words I cull up the humane tenor
Pitched about the crag of time,

In her eyes I see the woman
On which my home is built?
Mild in speech like a babe
Sweet in style like a rose
My dream through eternity

On her comely face
Is the engraven poise of excellence?
Which I memo rate like a gold pendant
Elegant to the touch
Lusty and rare like the colossal spire of Rome,

Liberal the span of her grace
Like the antique Atlantic waves
For with pride she clicks her heels
To the rhythm of my obsession,
Which ushers my lofty aspirations?