Looked With Awe, And Then Some

Looked With Awe, And Then Some    

To write about you is to write about flowers,

But not just the kind that are with you for few hours.

I mean flowers, plural.

One minute you’re a garden

But the next, you’re a mural.

To write about you is to write about coffee.

So raw, so potent, I can’t get the smell off me.

But I don’t want to.

Because it means that I’ve been near you,

Waking my soul up with just your aroma.

To write about you is to write about music.

The sound of your drums going, “boom! crash! tick!”

Your consistent beat booms

Making my heart bloom

With a rhythm desperate to match! your! own!

To write about you is to write about love.

But not the kind that the world talks of,

I didn’t know this definition:

You speak and act with a selfless rendition

That sometimes scares me.