If I, your humble poet,
could simplify my star
my flower's beauty into words
then you, dear reader,
would have paragraphs upon paragraphs to read
for, if it was possible,
I would take the time, detailing
The color, length of her golden-bronze hair,
Soft threads spun from only the finest material.
I would speak of the depth and clarity
of her eyes,
crystalline clear as sapphire.
I would tell of her smooth, milky skin,
dotted lightly and delicately with the most perfect freckles.
Her nose, upturned ever so slightly,
to give her a high-society look.
The crinkles around her eyes
when she lends me a genuine smile.
The lines on her palms
finally leading me home.
But since it all is impossible,
my words barely qualifying as the tip of the iceberg,
I will simply sit