Lyiah Of My Eye

Sweet Lady of the sun, sang to me.
Her voice, richly spiced to paint
of ideals of love and virtue,
image of perfection for the heart.

Lyiah of my my eye, taught the ways
of storytelling, caramelized
my heart and soul,
so I would see.

She inherited this sainthood,
from God and Lucifer,
as a blessing to her lovers,
true and genuine, it was.

And as she smiled, daintily
musing for my wicked eyes,
memories once lived,
with promise of hope.

I could not help but store,
sweet aromas of her essence,
where the wild beating
of my heart gallivanted.