In the quiet meadow of my heart,
She dances
A silhouette against the canvas of my mind,
A whisper of green in a world of monochrome.
She's the first breath of spring,
The promise of life in the emerald leaves,
A gentle touch of moss against the stone,
The verdant pulse of the earth beneath my feet.
In her presence, I am a painter with no need for blue,
For she is the hue of life's continuous thread,
A vision of the color green
My love, my muse, my springtime dream.
I hear the rustle of her dress, a soft green whisper,
As she tiptoes into the quiet of my world.
I feel the flutter of my heart, a frail bird
I hear the melody of her movements,
And the poetry of her presence fills the room.
I see her, though my eyes are heavy,
Not from sleepless nights, but from dreams filled with her.
Time, once a relentless march, now dances to her rhythm,
And I wonder at its newfound grace.
My tasks, a mountain range of musts and maybes,
Now valleys at the sight of her smile.
Mirrors reflect the past, but she is my present,
A vision of now, and a promise of tomorrow.
I tap my foot, a steady beat to her serene symphony,
The soft collision of reality and reverie.
I tap my pen, not in calculation, but in creation,
For she inspires sonnets, not solutions.
My head, once clouded, now clear,
As if her love has lifted the fog of solitude.
I walk, no longer alone, but alongside her,
And even stumbles become steps in our shared journey.
The world spins stories of significance and scarcity,
But with her, every tale is one of abundance.
Meaning is not given, but grown,
In the garden of our togetherness.
One plus one is more than math; it's magic,
The kind that happens over coffee and quiet confessions.
The world thinks we aren't actors, but authors,
She sits, listening, living, loving,
In her, I find purpose.
She is the compass, the constellation,
The map, the journey, the question and the answer.
In this world of ours, of
whispers and wonders,
She is the reality, the truth, the heart.
She dances
A silhouette against the canvas of my mind,
A whisper of green in a world of monochrome.
She's the first breath of spring,
The promise of life in the emerald leaves,
A gentle touch of moss against the stone,
The verdant pulse of the earth beneath my feet.
In her presence, I am a painter with no need for blue,
For she is the hue of life's continuous thread,
A vision of the color green
My love, my muse, my springtime dream.
I hear the rustle of her dress, a soft green whisper,
As she tiptoes into the quiet of my world.
I feel the flutter of my heart, a frail bird
I hear the melody of her movements,
And the poetry of her presence fills the room.
I see her, though my eyes are heavy,
Not from sleepless nights, but from dreams filled with her.
Time, once a relentless march, now dances to her rhythm,
And I wonder at its newfound grace.
My tasks, a mountain range of musts and maybes,
Now valleys at the sight of her smile.
Mirrors reflect the past, but she is my present,
A vision of now, and a promise of tomorrow.
I tap my foot, a steady beat to her serene symphony,
The soft collision of reality and reverie.
I tap my pen, not in calculation, but in creation,
For she inspires sonnets, not solutions.
My head, once clouded, now clear,
As if her love has lifted the fog of solitude.
I walk, no longer alone, but alongside her,
And even stumbles become steps in our shared journey.
The world spins stories of significance and scarcity,
But with her, every tale is one of abundance.
Meaning is not given, but grown,
In the garden of our togetherness.
One plus one is more than math; it's magic,
The kind that happens over coffee and quiet confessions.
The world thinks we aren't actors, but authors,
She sits, listening, living, loving,
In her, I find purpose.
She is the compass, the constellation,
The map, the journey, the question and the answer.
In this world of ours, of
whispers and wonders,
She is the reality, the truth, the heart.
Flair-
