no amount of pretty words
or cleverly crafted phrases
could capture what she means to me

I sit, trying again
to find a way to express
what goes on inside this body

when she touches it

I sit staring at walls
begging my poetry muse
for a better style or scheme
that would make her see

what she already knows

she tells me everyday
the ways in which I make her life better
little does she know
it is mutual and eternal…
like cosmic wind carrying supernova particles
the building blocks of my existence
reside within her eyes

and I look deep
seeking reassurance
from god’s special gift
presented to Samuel Lyman Temple
on a warm summer day 13 years ago

one kiss and a sealed deal

I stand looking over more words
attempting to show you all
how much she means
how lucky and blessed I truly am
but it is just symbols etched onto papyrus
images carved on cave walls
burnt offerings to a pagan god

and she already knows –