By Laskari Banetet
What is it in this Lady that can so posses a man?
Is it in her walk? For she walks with grace, to be sure.
A dancer's grace has she, every step just so.
What is it in this Lady, that can captivate me so?
Be it in her eyes? Her smile? Hypnotic beyond the crystals of a sorcerer.
As if a Divine Michealangelo did free her from the stone.
What is it in this Lady, that takes Laskari's heart?
She is like art, like a song, or a poem.
Finely crafted, a work of great grace, and perfect symmetry.
It is as if every line, every curve and joint was the craft of a god, and with his greatest blessing. She is fair is my love.
Yet what is the magic? What so captures me? There are fair Ladies aplenty.
This, above all else, is what I must answer.
This is my mystery, my puzzle.
The tumbler of my endless study.
And the answer comes, like love, with warmth and a smile.
It is her heart, it is her caring, it is the ease with which she smiles.
For it is this, her heart, her soul, that makes her truly a Lady.