The Most

loose,
tight,
invariably
in-your-face,
yet consistently
contrite:
I love Her;
whipsmart,
with a golden heart,
She disarms me;
aloof,
engaged,
alarmed,
enraged,
She is passion's
throw-rug,
set down
to secure me;
She waves off
my exultations,
naming me
lovestruck,
under the influence
of too many
exclamations,
but I know
of this certain
glow, that comes
from Her, and so,
I raise my glass,
I make a toast,
to the one woman,
in all my life,
who is The Most.



March 21, 2010, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.