The serenade

Now i can't say what is more beautiful.
  The half moon that is an author of the photogenic silhoutte with the help of the mahogany leaves.
  The stars that twinkle with solidarity to make the perfect background.
    Her voice that requires no peripheral in completing the camaraderie of naturality.
    Her presence that could be felt even more than those stars and moon.
She is an object of sheer rarity.
  Simply, she encompasses all physical embelishments.
  She commands virtual vissual attention, applaud and audience.
  Her beauty gives out random sensual spasms of electricity.
  Totall bewilderment to its admirers.
  She is an object of fanatical fellowship in beauty.
    There is no place to go for leverage.
    There is no instrument that could sing better.
  There is no band that could be louder.
  Her simple words makes you want to hate proverbs.
  With the switches in her mind, she owns her world.
    She is the replica of the song of solomon's "virtous woman"
    When she exudes bits of her pragmatisms, nature smiles at her mate in perfection.
  Oh God be glorified for the gift of human rarity.
    Such a natural phenomenom, the creator is praised.
  July is as privileged as the people who join in celebrating the birth of a darling personality.
    How could their be another God's perfection rather than nature?
      Oh God is always with us.u