White Lilies

The gaze over the light,
filtered by the chapel tint,
the eyes with the radiance so bright,
intoxicating the private stint.

Wet with the morning dew,
innocence pours through the ebony,
a fire of an old hue,
it does feed.

The shadows last,
convoluting so fast,
echoing the wishes,
of the spirits, within red bushes.