Analysis of My Pleasure

To write a poem and let the plume
dispense my odes and rhythms
for you to feel, incense caressing
the corners of your land.
To let it be a journey of life
through the fertile valley
where only you, in festive grace,
sailing blue horizons
travel tall, and gentle in the air.
To let it devour the geography
of your thoughts of mine akin.
A poem to be for all a sacred temple,
an angel painted on its dome,
a place to call the world to sermon,
and yet, for me, alone to read.
For in verse, I would become,
by a muse so gently tamed,
my most glorious tale,
for all who love, to hear and say.