by Brian G. Daigle

The form of love in feminine frame
Beheld and given a glorious name. 
My love she beckons, her love she gives, 
My love she ignites, invigorates, and tames. 

The sight of you in silhoutte lines,
A grace to eyes and heart and man's mind. 
My gaze she holds,
My heart she molds,
Our love she informs, enfolds, and entwines.

by Brian G. Daigle

If morning mercies had a woman's smile, it would be yours. 
If morning dew gave a woman's kiss, it would be yours. 
If Dawn's rose finger were on a woman's hands, they would be yours. 
If the daybreak's wonder spoke a woman's voice, it would be yours. 
If ambition and passion could awaken with a breath, it would be yours. 
If the joy of a single day could stand on two legs, it would be you. 

by Brian G. Daigle

What are bright? Sunrises and smiles.
What are busy? Bees and ant piles.
What are happy? Children and flowers.
What are gifts? Friends and hours.

by Brian G. Daigle

There sits a light upon a hill which shines from east to west.
It wasn't there more recently, but now it gives its best.
It shines upon the old and new, it pours forth heat and light.
It brings what's hidden to my eyes; it gives a hopeful sight.

A companion for a traveling soul, and feet that wish for home,
A beacon from some peaceful town, with the likeness of my Rome,
This light inflamed by greater Light, was made apart from me,
And if I covered heart or face, a fool I'd prove to be.

I cannot help, though lights I've known, to see the value here,
To pause my tracks and gaze up toward, until my feet draw near.
But burdens rest on traveled backs, and fires made ash before.
And yet the pureness of Lucy's heart does heal and does restore.

​I will love this light so long as it's here and brightens all I see.
I will wait upon that greater Light to know if this light is for me.
And yet whatever comes beyond, if this light passes sure,
I'll wish each light in front of me to have a love so pure.

by Brian G. Daigle

Angelic grace with Eve's own form,
A message come down to earth,
A word of hope to end a storm,
Transcending for love's new birth.

The fullness of friendship never so clear
And never have graces so spread 
Than in her eyes and from her lips
And flowing like gold from her head. 

The purest of joys I find within 
And a treasury far beyond this.
Home in a face, a touch, a grin,
And light from the gift of a kiss. 

Her nearness a honey, a rose, a river. 
Her presence a sweetness, a beauty, a guide. 
If ever Love's hand did mercy deliver
It's surely each time she's here by my side. 

Mercy delivered and always on time,
Never to tarry or dampen its voice.
If ever Love's hand did with flesh make a rhyme,
It's verses are you. Your virtues, Love's choice.

Let Solomon or Coesus bring forth greater goods 
Than what mercy has here delivered. 
No storehouse contains nor palace could hold
Your beauty, a liberation and tether. 

by Brian G. Daigle 
​
There is a way that poets describe a rose 
Or any flower pleasing to see. 
There is a way that sailors sing of their love
And respect for the vast blue sea. 

There is a delight one gets when near a friend  
And sharing a laugh or a meal,
And still yet there is a bliss and thrill to gain
When at the peak of a Ferris wheel. 

But the poet didn't know you, and the sailors could not have grasped,
Just what a beautiful friend you'd be, 
And how your thrill does the Ferris height outlast. 
Mine is the greater delight than any of those three. 

A rose can be plucked and the sea has its storms,
But blessed am I to call you my friend,
Whose love my joy does shape and form, 
Whose virtues endure to the end.