You’re a mirage, my love.
I can’t tell you and the sky apart.
Is this some trick of the light? The eyes, mind, or heart?
Or are you a mural, my love? A work of ART.
A stepping stone, my love? My end and my start.
An architect, a comet, a sky full of stars?
An enticing, enduring, enigma, my love?
What are you my love, besides my love?
You’re amazing, and alien, my all, my love.