Enchantress

She strokes the finest stores of mind,
Sweet reservoir eyes, shining
hair a running river;
All but the scent, an exotic rose.

Her complexion swirls, brighter
Than any Indian summer night,
Two still lanterns wrapping coals
To a new, low strumming.

The spirits of the deepest fires
Forged her unapproachable charm-
Smiths lost in eternal sands
Wrought a beauty, so written,
For otherwise defeated nights.