Eyes may be the window to the soul
but your eyes are the door to my heart

If you turned into a word
I wonder…
Which word would you be?

There’s many a beautiful word
a poet, I’m sure, could see

Yet, I’d find you once I heard you.
Most likely, hiding in poetry

I can write poetry just like them

‘Mountain regions sweep across stretched plains of silvery skies’

Or poetry like him

‘Mountain sweeps stretching across your
pretty eyes’

But I’d rather write poetry just like me

* The mountain lies before us *.

The cat sat on the mat

You gotta like love
Like a good cold warm dish
Losing a chance on one wish
A saltless main meal
A genuine touch you can’t feel
Like lukewarm coffee
Ants stuck in toffee
Warm soft watermelon in summer
Shrivelled cold fries the day after
A delivered bitten slice of pizza
Uber, two hours later
A flat glass of Coca Cola
A wet cold doona
A missing piece at the end of a puzzle
A resentful bitter cuddle
Matchsticks with wet strikes
Your best poem with no likes
Oil stains on a monopoly board game
A long conversation with a forgotten name
You gotta like it, to love it
Just like, we like loving

I want to be someone I know
and someone who knows me