My Love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her;
For every season she hath dressings fit,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No beauty she doth miss
When all her robes are on:
But Beauty’s self she is
When all her robes are gone.
So beautiful. Brings me peace to read this, Leonard. Thanks for supporting my poetry. It means a lot. Enjoy your weekend. ~Audrey
Thank you, Audrey. I hope your weekend is filled with peace and love.
Thank you