G-d the Weaver

She’s beautiful in face and form
way above the norm and in this cold world her words tumble out warm.
I don’t want to die but in her eyes drown
I need her like make up needs the clown.
Her loveliness invades me flower attracts the bee
She’s a temple and I am her devotee
don’t want to be alone want to be with her
O that I was the covers of her sidur.
I feel hot and a lovely fever
knowing she’s how a believer that we are two strands and
G-d is the weaver.
Her beauty it is given given from above I am captivated by her love.