Her Beauty is, Like, A Misty Lake

Her beauty is, like, a misty lake,
whose, like, silver current whispers passion.
Her shores, like, caressing lover’s flesh
Slim fingers touch in, like, caring fashion.

A, like, sunny day, she outshines not;
Her, like, curves are, like, fairest robed by moon.
Her misty breath hangs, like, cold above,
slow-dancing to, like, a silent tune.

O, Like, whence comes she? I know it not.
How could such, like, grace be, like, human-sired?
Fare, like, well! I submit to the lake
For this gentle pond, my heart is, like, fired.

I walk into th’, like, embracing waters
of , like, Rainfall’s most, like, benign of, like, daughters.