Starry-Eyed

The first time you called me beautiful;

It was as if that word spilled from your lips and danced around my head like Native Americans danced for rain.

Your voice: was an orchestrated symphony of violins and cellos,

A maestro to my bass drum heart every time you spoke to me, 

The vibrations of your vocal chords became my favorite sound.

Your eyes resembled sunrise meeting clerestory windows. 

When you looked at me, I felt warmth enter my skin and travel through my ultraviolet veins,

It was like seeing a parade at noon when the sun rays shine down onto the street 

And all the coat buttons of the marching band glisten along with the shining instruments playing in unison.

You were a walking piece of fine art, 

You spoke music and stood before me like Monet's San Giorgio Maggiore.

I wanted to waltz around the city with you in my hands,

Show the world that Nicholas Cage was an amateur;

I had found the greatest treasure. 

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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