March of the Virgins

Here come the young virgins swathed in white,
Basking in the glow of serene summerlight.
Daughters of music, radiant and fair,
With laurels & dewdrops in their hairs.

Here they come, sandaled and dancing,
Fragrant, on fleek, and entrancing.
Singing sweet sighs of ardor and bliss,
With bangles on their ankles and bracelets on their wrists.

Here come the young virgins, prim and hollowed,
With lovely words upon their lips.
Behold! Among them is one well favored,
She blows a kiss from within their midst!

Here come the young virgins, cheery and gay,
Making merriment as on a holiday.
Darling, precious, cherished, and treasured,
Emboldened to love with hearts unmeasured.

Here they come, all charming and chipper,
Doe-eyed, delicate, nimble, and supple,
Carrying baskets of flowers and perfume,
Their budding years showing, them practically abloom!

Here come the young virgins, pleasant and brilliant,
Tender, babyish, yet full of resilience.
Marching onward on a pathway of truth
Celebrating the fountain of youth!