I do not imagine your tresses as they fall
on your shoulders,
I do not admire you overwhelmingly then
although I do look
but not with expressions
of callous flirtations
but of perhaps awe
or maybe a mild appreciation
what if i say this now
that in my subconscious reality
your presence has a beauty
of its own
mind you it is not really therapeutic
or meditative
but it does makes my head argue
with my heart

I do look at your eyebrows
when you are contemplative
your eyes laugh when you do
and i can gather the ripened moment
when you wish to cry or seek comfort

I imagine spending time with you
and i most certainly look for you
in my dreams,
creating ripples of
Innocent joys
In my own way, I am smitten
by your feminine swagger
and love the way you share
your stories

I enjoy visiting book shops, cafes and libraries
with you
or any place where you want to be
where I can get inspired
by your effervescence
and our ignorant brevity

I cherish being in love with you
But I don’t imagine loving you
the words are hollow
and the emotions set the tone
when I think of you