My Love,
Your smile greets me like the sun on a perfect summer day,
Your eyes are cloudless skies, beneath I doze and dream, and play; Your cheeks are gently rolling hills that I traverse along the way, to that perennial blooming flower of your lips on which I stay
My Love,
I hear the soft whisper of your voice gliding through beautifully colored leaves upon November's autumn breeze... The splendor exquisitely painted by invisible brush and invisible hand... Indivisible... The benevolent artist will leave no signature...

My Love,
Your stride is the hypnotic sway of flame dancing among the embers on a cold winter's night... Outside, the swirling wind grows angry... Desperate to get inside; Jealous of the warm glow of your light.. Inside, the wicked phantom goes unnoticed... Or rather.. unacknowledged.
My Love,
The warmth of your embrace has pried the cold grip of winter from around my wretched heart, allowing Spring to enter freely and woeful sorrow to depart... Recalled to life.