You Are A Ballad

There is poetry in my head and in my heart since I have been in love with you

So...

You are a poem...

What sort?

An ode...

Or a sonnet?

No.

For they are too ponderous and contrived.

But you...

You are a tempo dancing on the breeze,

A cacophony of apostrophies,

A metaphor manipulated melifluously

Into a sort of a ballad

That tells a tale...

And I long to be in it as it unfolds,

For it to lyricize of love...

Of how butterflies take flight and swirl at your sweet smile,

Your eyes dancing to the rhythm of your words

And I, floating on the lilt of your inflection.

How irresistibly my mouth finds yours

And there is perfect eloquence in the silence of our moving lips.