i don't really know.
it's just that,
you plant a garden in my heart
and grow tulips.
you write a children's book in my mind
and read it to me until i fall asleep.
you are the windows rolled down
and new music.
you are fresh linen
and clean hair.

i must describe you so ordinarily
so the earth won't feel so bad about itself.
but it should feel honored
to hold something as special as you.

a.h.d.