Your presence renders me mute,
My thoughts—
awash with ecstasy.
My mouth,
forever pursuing the right words,
But they’ll never come.
Your beauty, indescribable by man.
But the Birds?
They speak of you every day.

Your eyes—
a reflection of the branches that harbor them
Your hair—
a fresh moss,
basking in beams of morning light.
Your skin—
smooth as river stone,
resilient to the current’s embrace
Your touch—
a gentle breeze,
a flower’s bloom.

But your smile…
The birds speak nothing of it
For even nature is eclipsed by its radiance
Assuredly, the Sun longs to match its brilliance—
And fails.