The way his fingers moved over the ivory keys
Notes pouring from his hands left me in awe
"Sing" he urges so I do, voice, piano, and
Laughter like a symphony of our own kind

The intimacy of the moment is so thick
It threatens to burst out of the room
And consume the whole world in love

I forgot for a moment to keep my guard up
I forgot that I should be weary of this
That I should be cautious of anything

I let myself be engulfed by the love
We shared and I let the intimacy
of that moment consume my world.

There once was a young girl,
Shy and pretty, but unaware of her grace.
On late summer days she gazed up to the sky,
Trying to slow down worlds enormous pace.

She understood there was more outside,
Than poppy fields and hazy clouds,
while most people blindly joined life's crazy ride,
She resolved to walk without the crowd.

On her untapped path she spotted a flower,
Blue and lovely as she has never seen it before.
For flowers blooming in unexpected places she swore,
Are the most beautiful ones holding the greatest power.

She has the power to paint words
Into beautiful art
To be able to touch a soul
To touch one's heart

She can make the stormy sky blue
Stop the waves from crashing to the shore
She can make all the withered flowers bloom
Turn winter into summer, a glimpse of gold

She can make someone's dark day colorful
Gather hope to put in between her words
Make them feel that they are understood
That they aren't alone in this cruel world

There are words
Hidden in trees
And growing in flowers.

There are words
Between her lip's
And in songs being carried
by the summer breeze.

There are words
On her fingertips
And lingering in her ears.

There are words
Left unspoken
And there are some
That were spoken all too quickly.

There are words
In her body and in everything
That is alive.
Because life is a combination of words
And she just trying to make them rhyme.

His eyes are a metaphor,
A conceit, fantasy

No shakespearean sonnet
Even a lyric, will suffice
To describe the masculine he carries

His smile, the greatest curve,
All simile will be denied

Haikus and couplets,
Even the long ones
Will not be enough

His laughter is a song,
A perfect harmony and melody

He is neither a hyperbole
Or full of irony
Instead he is perfect rhyme

He is a walking poetry
A personification of aesthetics

She is moonbeams
And dappled sunlight
Renewal and
New beginnings
Gracing the land
With fragrant blossoms
Buzzing bees

And dandelion flurries
As children play
In Spring’s garden
Blowing happy bubbles
And laughter floats
Touching the heart and soul
She is Mistress of Spring

It was the decay of long-ago spoken words that had hardened around her heart.
It was the blood of past loves that turned the whites of her eyes to crimson.
She dragged herself through the day wearing loneliness on her feet.
Shielded by solitude,
Clothed in dust.

Dried up tears grew as stale
As conversations she continually had with herself
She found her reflection in the most sombre of things:
Empty antique stores
Humdrum of steady rain,
On empty ears.