Your eyes hold a promise
of a thousand vignettes;
a sewn art of narratives
and sunshine metaphors.
The soft wind in your hair
is unborn poetry
carrying a hefty cloud
of sonnets and cinquains
figuratively crafted
with a wreath of sweetbay magnolia.
Your heart is brevity;
a tapestry of haikus and senryu,
decoupage of ballads
in a sea of poetic musings.
You are made of rhythmic quatrains;
an endless ocean of poetry.
And i'm an anthophile
with lungs made from flowers
forever drowning in your smile.
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 7:12 AM UTC
Your eyes hold a promise
of a thousand vignettes;
a sewn art of narratives
and sunshine metaphors.
The soft wind in your hair
is unborn poetry
carrying a hefty cloud
of sonnets and cinquains
figuratively crafted
with a wreath of sweetbay magnolia.
Your heart is brevity;
a tapestry of haikus and senryu,
decoupage of ballads
in a sea of poetic musings.
You are made of rhythmic quatrains;
an endless ocean of poetry.
And i'm an anthophile
with lungs made from flowers
forever drowning in your smile.
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