Your soft, white skin
shines in the moonlight.
Your soft, silver hair
I run my fingers through your silken satiny tresses
And wonder how you ever came to be.
It seems that you are the essence of masculinity,
A Norse god so perfectly formed.
And I step back in dismay
As I realize my own imperfections.
What do I have to give you?
With your perfect form
And creative mind?
All I can say is, “please be kind.”