He holds my hand

While we stare at art pieces

All through the museum in perfect silence

He tells me I belong on the wall

With the rest of the masterpieces;

I bite my lip to keep from smiling.

We exit the museum and walk

Down the stairs to the garden.

He tells me I’m his favorite flower,

I tell him the rose is my favorite

But you’re my favorite flower

He says a hundred times.

I am the bouquet sitting by the windsheild

For all to see

He tells me my hair is everything to me

I let it fly in the wind so that he knows it is mine

He looks at me with love and joy

I look at myself through his sunglasses

He says I am flawless and I reply

Yes I am flawless, I woke up like this