A Treasure Shrouded

Oh, those blushing cheeks,
Moved by the smallest of sweetnesses;
How they bloom as eager roses
Amidst a paper white garden of purity.

Oh, that the heated swirls of your face
Could melt the icy heart of a man worthy;
How your delicate heart waits so patiently
Gently rebuking the predictable appetites of demons.

And, oh, your skittish spirit,
Stirred by the softest of suggestions;
How like a treasure shrouded sits,
Nestled unpretentiously against past refuse.