Saint of Love

Withering eyes peer from dark corner;
sad and lowly, broken down mourner.
A tiresome gaze to penetrate through;
too weary to lift her head and argue.

A taunting smile in the midst of night;
gleaming teeth show pure delight.
Shaking hand and pointing finger;
a lasting scent which seems to linger.

A frayed shawl swathed round her body;
her many hats lavish and gaudy.
Lavender wisps from gardenia hair;
hurtful words you should beware.

But this gentle woman, a true Saint.
She is never one to utter a complaint.
She loves the world and all within;
she is where love does eternally begin.

Affectionate smile, fond caress;
tender kisses she does express.
Open your heart and arms wide,
for in her you can confide.