I'm not any good at poetry.
When I speak of you, the words don't come
Measured in stanzas and sonnets.
When I look at you, I don't think
Of lilies or daffodils in spring.
Your voice, while mellifluous,
Doesn't make me think of song.
When I look at you, you're all I see,
My world encompassed in a face.
My universe is bounded by your skin,
Which bewitches me with a touch,
That I cannot think of does.
I can't explain the way I feel
When your eyes look up at me
With perfect rhyming similes.
I have no golden metaphors
To express the way your laughter sounds,
For when you laugh, it's all I hear.
No, I'm no good at poetry---
I love you far too much for that.