For My Love

For My Love:
A Poem

Her hair is ravens dancing with ribbons of incense
It perches on my fingers and flutters down my wrist
There is nothing unkind about the collective strands that flap and twist
The scent travels in northern migratory patterns to my olfactory’s sense.

Her eyes are honey dipped emeralds on a sunny day.
I get lost in the facets and the refraction of light
They shimmer, they sparkle, and glow at night
I drown in the sweet yellow-green of the substance and spectral array.

Her lips are rubies and taste of red wine
The hue of a Rose in an opaque glass
The taste of a moscato, sweet to the last
I am Intoxicated as she joins hers to mine

Her mouth is a teacup with sugar and spice spirals
The pouring out is warm and fills me to the brim with calm
A medicine offered to a broken man as a balm
I have never loved another—she has no rivals

Her face, her head, her body all a statuesque reminder of life
Her voice, her breath, her spirit all a singular representation of wife.

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