beloved

I am the rose and sometimes
I am water but
you   the Snow queen one day on that old high street, my
most beautiful and mature lovely woman.
Once a  green gem,that  could be blue, rose, white or gold.
Young
Clear
but then
the things came of
tune, melody and time.

Your nickname of  "our daughter ". For all our good men.

Very white; whiter than all of my most positive things.
Most good woman.
Darling! Beloved! And what else could I have said losing you.
Learned, wise , wise enough to think other thoughts.
Crystal as the river.
And a thousand coyness of grace and  reluctance to love my notions once more.
The thousand lights of two eyes on
one branch , on
one rose
you the only one, the only one 
of that water flowing sweet where otters played.
The bouquet of
common sex and 
hindsight.
Smelling sweetly, fragrantly
and a seagull wanting hungrily, wailing in the wind.
Good news once.
My struggling woman, my hard-working woman
My beloved, sweetheart .
Lifes water; the first water giving to planted flowers, trees and my oak
Kindness, friendliness, compliments
decreasing  in  warmth one remembered August in rain.