You are sweet as a sugar fed rose on a bed of imagery
I am still
an *******.

You are tight as a spring coiled around vision
I am still
your fiddle.

Days are supposedly bright sunshine
my baby.
I am still
the night.

Nights, most days, are so enjoyable.
I am still
smiling.

Time is painted in your eyes.
I am still
ticking.

A foible, you are my still,
my day, my night.
I am still
yours.