Her eyes are clouded silver, like the sky a misty day,
Like still-hot argent expert-wrought, like newly polished mail,
Like blood-drenched steel that's wielded by the expert's steady hand,
Like age-dulled iron bars that block the entrance to the jail.

Her hair is fire, molten gold, like amber in the sun,
Like honey from acacia, like oranges from the South,
Like mellow leaves from giant trees that in the autumn falls,
Like oak-aged whisky twelve-years-old that grates the novice's throat.

Her voice is like the angels', if the angels sings those songs,
Like choirs in the cathedrals, like rough nails on a slate,
Like summer's breeze through lovely gales of forests that are green,
Like hailstorms in the winter, like the mocking voice of Fate.

Her temper is notorious - she throws things when she's mad!
She crashed my door some years ago - and she's the older one!
She dents the woodwork everywhere - I keep out of her reach!
If this's how older sisters are, I'm glad she's not a son!

Her clothing is a mix-up - that is, to say the least,
A scare-crow and the queen of balls, all in one glorious night!
Her colours - it's a rainbow, though she matches colours well,
And in her lab, well, lets just say, she's not a pretty sight.

She never seems to understand that bondage can be fun,
She's far too obsessed with strength, and keeping her control.
Pain lies so close to pleasure, and agony to delight,
She have to understand it, it's ingrained in my soul.

I'll buy her a revolving door, instead of those of wood,
The illustrated K.S., and things from Forty-Second Street
I'll take her off to Shadowearth, to London and New York,
And round it up with rose champagne wherever we may meet.

So, sister dear, what do you say - you dare to lose your reins?
I challenge you to keep my pace on this Valentine's eve.
I challenge you to lose yourself, and follow in my wake.
I challenge you to adventures, and to a dance with me.

Three times challenged stands for all, and three times seals all bonds.
Three calls ritual demands for duels on the hills.
I haven't a chance of matching you with swords, or wits, or strength,
So I'll just have to match you with charm, and with my will.