The streets unfold woven dreams,
cradling wishes in their seams;
we wander through gilded haze,
chasing echoes of our days.
Her laughter braids through the breeze,
plucking wonder from the seas;
each trinket, a stolen star,
hung like trophies on the heart.
Coins pour like rain from my hands,
building thrones of shifting sands;
she smiles, and kingdoms are born,
for what is wealth if not sworn?
Silks and shadows in her grasp,
ivory lights in her clasp,
she gathers the useless things,
yet crowns them with secret wings.
The price is a fleeting breath,
a kiss from the hand of death;
but oh, her eyes catch the sun,
and in her, the worlds are spun.
I watch the bloom on her face,
as she weaves through time and place,
stringing laughter on her sleeves,
harvesting what heart believes.
Every sack, a chapel's hymn,
every bauble, a bright limb;
though reason crumbles in vain,
I would pay to see her reign.
The merchants dance in the gloom,
offering petals of bloom;
we, two pilgrims lost in gold,
naming riches none can hold.
Let the heavy coins now fall,
let desire strip down the walls;
what she touches turns to lore,
etched in marrow evermore.
So I follow through the maze,
spending hours, burning days,
for what is cost to a flame,
when love is the truest name?