The truth is, all my pretty words,
And my poignant lines,
All my clever ones, all my rhymes,
All of them, laid end-to-end,
Could never shed enough light
On what a lover, what a friend
You are to me, my sweet:
You are the cherry on top,
You are the "be", in my "be-bop"
You're like no other,
And my poems will never capture
The whole thing; it's a rapture.
And this one is to tell you again
That you make my world rock --
You make it spin.
January 10, 2009, for Jan.
Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.