Lines of Attack

-
She agitates ink to passionate poetry:
a smile and a slight tilt of her head
                            shake violently
a desire to write romantically
'til every drop of ink
has been robbed clean off.

Her eyes demand dedication
on every page of the flyleaf
of every journal filled
with sentimental
wordings only one so love-struck
can ever bother
         to immortalize with ink.

She holds hostage my heart
with every laugh she emits
from her soul -
      every note a chime of bells
that send down shivers
                though winter has yet
           to visit this time of year.
And it visits when she draws near.

Her fingers touch the tip
of my shoulders and I feel
every bit of warmth
        from her warm-hearted soul.
        How can I think to let her go
when she makes it so easy to know
that God has given her
every part of a pleasant personality
         and gentle character

that I simply cannot resist?
Somewhere in the lines
I've let my heart resign
itself to not-so-fleeting happiness
and terribly heavy sighs
that might soon hint of tears
               or bittersweet fears.

But I'll take it.
Yes, I'll take it.
If I can call her
      my "little miss".
Yes, I'll take all this
for a lifetime of passionate
                                       poetry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I must be getting better at this.

Cheers!

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