Obviously no poem of mine can adequately describe you.
So I will be content to present my observations: the
way that profusion of hair frames your face; the
muscularity of your now shirtless torso---distinct, but not
distorted in the manner of professional body
builders or other advertisers of chemical or mechanical
services. The way your jeans fit you should also be
noted---and, now that your shoes are absent, how the
cuffs kind of pool around your grass-stained feet. In the
presence of your beauty, I am ugly; in the
presence of your achievements, I am unaccomplished; in the
presence of your answers, I have no further questions; in the
presence of your love, I discover that I am loved. I crave the
fragrance and flavor of your mouth, your bared skin, and,
ultimately, the sweetness you eagerly release. No poem of
mine can adequately describe you; but this poem of
mine should not fail to make the effort to do so.
Starward
[*/+/^]
For me this poem creates
the urge to weep, the urge to sing. Beautiful.
Thank you very much for your
Thank you very much for your comment and for visiting the poem. Those urges to weep and to sing are probably universal in that kind of a relationship, I think.
Starward