I will not write you into poetry,
because you are worth more than these few lines deserve.
More than my metaphors could muster.
Beyond my simile.
I will not inscribe your name on my arm,
nor place you as a seal to my heart
lest my gestures be rendered meaningless.
Instead, I will trace my dreams
in circlets around your head.
I will draw upon the back of your hand
my good fortunes and pleasure.
I will seal each moment
with the softness of your skin
and lay my anchor between the tips of your fingers.
I will mouth non-sense syllables,
and laugh out of turn.
All, in turn, just to see you smile.
Because in a world where everything seems fleeting,
this moment is forever.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 4:50 AM UTC
I will not write you into poetry,
because you are worth more than these few lines deserve.
More than my metaphors could muster.
Beyond my simile.
I will not inscribe your name on my arm,
nor place you as a seal to my heart
lest my gestures be rendered meaningless.
Instead, I will trace my dreams
in circlets around your head.
I will draw upon the back of your hand
my good fortunes and pleasure.
I will seal each moment
with the softness of your skin
and lay my anchor between the tips of your fingers.
I will mouth non-sense syllables,
and laugh out of turn.
All, in turn, just to see you smile.
Because in a world where everything seems fleeting,
this moment is forever.
Something forgotten in the hustle, bustle of life. In an age of computers and cellphones. Of being everywhere always and your presence visible for the world any time of day. Something essential: to just slow down. To just sit and be. And look. Like human beings used to, at one another. In the eyes.
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