To craft a poem for you
Seems a silly thing
For there's no heartbreak in your arms
No hint of hopeless fling

Together we are simple
No drama here to see
Just me, my tousled hair, and you
Chuckling with glee

Your look is soft and gentle
Mine answers the same
And here wrapped up in your embrace
Is where I will remain

I could sing a song of love
Pen odes to your touch
Or write a sonnet on ev'rything
But at straws I'd only clutch

Your eyes are autumn sun
Spiced and honeyed wine
In their gaze I feel a treasured thing
I can't believe you're mine

Your touch burns hot as fire
Somehow safe and close
Enticing yet a comforting hush
And of you I do boast

Were this a normal poem
My words would trace your hands
They'd whisper of your strong, broad back
And speak of dreams and plans

Perhaps they'd mess your hair
Or brush cross your chest
Or speak of walks made hand-in-hand
And say I love you best

None of this is falsehood
Every last line is truth
But you foil my words through and through
As this poem is proof