Composing a poem that
derived from your heart core,
How shall i make it to rhyme?
when no words can define more.

You have the heart of heaven
And the soul more beautiful,
like roses that keeps me captivating
Your love makes me more peaceful.

You uprooted me from the roots
that once used to be dry and dead,
The feeling of being loved is very bewitching
Making it complex to write how it all led.

First glance when
your eye's met with mine,
Had penetrated a deep memory
in my soul which always shine.

Though we are apart today
But the love is alive in every word,
reminding about our story which
Resembles like a fairly tale world.

Imposing green,
a lonely stretch
into the streaking sky.

Strong and steady,
never wavering,
even in the gales.

Crisp leaves
flutter and shift,
always reaching up.

I thank you, overcast,
Though so many hold you in contempt,
I say to you, dear friend,
Those who are unable to find it within themselves,
To pay you with the respect due,
Shall never find appreciation in our universe.

The glorious sunshine,
The melancholic rain,
The rampaging rage of the vicious storm,
The frost and fear of the seeping, invading ice,
None of them remind me that I am alive as much as you do.

For you remind me that not all is sunshine,
Not all is the chagrin of the rain,
Not all is storm and violence,
Nor is it the freezing embrace of death,
No, the extremities of the seasons, the encompassing grasp of the weather,
None remind me of the trials and tribulations,
The brilliance and horrors,
The humility of life,
The chance,
The pure,
Mathematical,
Plausibility of my own existence.

It is you, overcast,
My dearest and most reliable companion.
It is you they shun,
For they describe you as boring,
Unmotivating,
Dull,
And I say to you,
As I say to them,
The depiction is wrong.

Not everything is in the extremes portrayed by the weather,
Nay, life is full of boredom,
No one experiences life to its fullest,
And those who think otherwise are fooling themselves.

It is you,
The greyness,
The unmoving,
The boredom,
That reminds me I am alive,
And will continue to live for however long I have left.
I promise you this overcast, I will appreciate you, for you keep me breathing.

And the homely girls
The plain-faced girls
The four point fives out of ten
With crooked noses or
Baggy eyelids or
Halos of glorious frizz-
And, even better,
All of the above

Every feature she hates
Is the one I cherish
When the ugly girl
Nitpicks her eyes, mouth,
Ears, nose, teeth, hands,
Hair, skin, ****, *****, legs-
I just love her even more

There’s an unspoken kinship
Between the girls with
The acne, the bad teeth,
The timid smiles and slouched backs
Because we dare to exist
Despite all we’ve been told
Us audacious angels
Of alternative attraction

The most powerful force of the planet:
The ugly girl.

Pink sunset caress gently pink dogwoods and lilacs.
They're guests at the arousing
of spring's bloomy breath.
I give you my sensual loving embrace
as the blossoms show my gratitude for you.

Milky-white trees flow
in the light waves of wind.
Cherry branches swing calmly and sing,
close to amusing forsythias and golden sands.
In the morning cityscape, I say "welcome, my spring".

Strawberry rivers in daylight cross my path
and hearts of crimson pomegranates
kiss its surface with passion.
Crunchy coffee's aroma lead my way
to thy enchanting love fit to stop our time.

Nature awakes for giving birth
to the colorful children of mother Earth.
We gather together in devotion
adoring our love by notes of symphony
and vibes of emphatic emotion.

Crunchy chocolate melts,
the sun has arrived to warm us.
Rain droplets drown it in a stream of unity
as we ought for a new beginning in our souls.
Let your ears open their senses to the musical goals.

They splatter words into the atmosphere,
decorating the space with linguistic revelations and insight.
They weave terminology into sentences that blanket their passion
As he challenges, she debates feverishly,
it's a feat of wit and cognition.

Laughter and glee fills their beings and she pauses,
He says, "I honor thy stoic morning mask of incandescent art with a graceful bow"

All the while her heart swells with the incandescent composition he delivers.

His prose pauses her.
His mind captivates her.
His soul welcomes her.

She's fallen for a global linguist,
stunted in his travels due to a pandemic.
He has no space for her existence in his heart's scape,
Yet he leads her into this fantasy illuminated by the words he meddles.

She continuously falls without hesitation or fear.
Uncontrollable.