Goddess of the Glade

Deep within the glade lies the beauty of the world.
A soft and silken maid atop a flower, pink petals unfurled.
From floral bed, so delicate, she rises in rapture.
Bejeweled eyes they, dead as night no more, any heart could capture.

Oh, how sensuously she flirts and dances with the other spirits of the land,
Twirling through the meadows and kissing gaily her companion’s faces: hand-in-hand.
How far she dwells from those finding sin in sex and ludicrousness is in love.
These demons in Hells have never known the serenity of the glade, nor peace of the dove.