Amaranthine Affection

I wonder if she can see her own beauty,
See the loving hand of Mother Nature in the mirror each day.
No, she is humble - from vanity she will flee.
But her humility puts me into dismay,
As her eyes are as beautiful as the blue skies above,
And the touch of her hand is the touch of velvet.
For her, my heart fills with love,
And my resolve is as the hardest helmet.
And though this sweet skin will not last
The relentless march of time,
My amarathine love will never slip into the past,
Much unlike this wholly forgettable rhyme.
For she and I are bound together,
By an irresistible love, forever and ever.