These days she is the poem to my anthology
Short and sweet like Shakespearian sonnets
Her beautiful heart and intelligent mind a couplet,
She is the dreams I serenade, more of an ode

Every time I pick up a pen she’s the falls of the rhyme
The rhythm of beauty fills the cup of this writing
Each verse to a stanza mimics her curves and contours
She’s like the beaker jar that mixes reality and my fantasy

For every moment even in yonder I feel the magic
Tingling my innards like a child’s tickle play
I’m no scientist but I have come to know chemistry
It moves like electricity connecting my heart and soul
Love is beautiful like the butterfly in morning spring
Her love like a fairy tale known only in my writing.