A Type

You ask if I have a type, I reply it's not so, For in matters of the heart, I'm guided by a different flow. Your hand, it beckoned mine, seeking a belt loop's embrace, Our souls bound, it felt, in a dance of grace. Our paths, they danced in harmony, never to intertwine, Yet there was a whisper, a glimmer, a promise of something divine. You asked again, and I revealed, with a subtle clue, Curly locks, a bond, a connection so true. A smile, a laugh, a simple girl, it seemed, But within, a world, a universe, it gleamed. Yet, what I left unsaid, you already knew, For in my words, my dear, I was describing you. Locks intertwined, a tapestry of hues, A sturdy frame, poised to uplift and infuse. That smile, once insecure, now a beacon of light, In it, I found life's content, shining so bright. Your soul, magnificent, unmatched by any other, A magnet for hearts, a love like no other.