She spends hours writing love letters
Post marking them for a later date
In case she thinks of something
More loving along the way

She adds an even number of flower petals
With a slight hint of perfume
The scent of lilac is her favorite
Sometimes a touch of cinnamon when it fits her mood

She dot's all her  " I's " with flowers
And all her punctuation marks with hearts
Because she feels that love is and always will be
A lost form of art

When she does send them on their way
Single stamped and single file
Giving each a lasting kiss
And bids a part of herself farewell

Your sonny loves a girl,
Yes, he has made mistakes,
But it is time for a perfection,
Yes, she's his final partner,
Your son will be happy.

Clearly, darling, you do not understand why
I love you.

All of you.

Stare at these two cups of coffee or look into my eyes.
Shuffle your feet, tangle your fingertips in your hair.
I don't care,
just listen and
let my words
meld into that beautiful mind.
Okay?

For a person to be here, it took years.
The little wisps of hair that always gets into your eyes.
The laugh-line underneath your cheek.

It all took an immeasurable number of tick-tocks.

In those infinite string of days was hours.

In those hours, there were minutes.
And yes, in those minutes are seconds.

Now, don't roll your eyes just yet.
Dotting in between the mellow epochs are experiences, dreams, unspoken wishes behind closed eyelids, tears, laughter crinkling your lips.
The creasing of the edges of your heart.
The sound of your very breaths in a lonely room.

If you think in such numbing detail, eventually I found myself happily and hopelessly tangled in those strings of little infinities.

And then, I fell in love with you.

It's simple really.