As I sit here
And my mind becomes clear
I wait for the Muse of Poetry
To come and take over me
And control my pen and give me the words to use
To explain how my heart and mind could choose
Her as the object of my affection

In my mind's eye
Passing slowly by
Coming clear to me now through the mist
My forehead is gently kissed
By the simple and ordinary features
That combine to make this beautiful creature
I'll just call her Isis

Maybe it's her eyes
It is as if I'm going to die
Each time I look into them
Bringing there sunshine when
My long hard days seem grim
And dim
They speak to my soul

Perhaps it is her nose
Best described I suppose
As a cute little strawberry
That our God very
Strategically placed
Upon her face
And marked with beauty

Or maybe it's her voice
Give me a second to rejoice
Having been blessed simply to hear her hum
Left deaf and dumb
To all around me as I find merriment
In the tone of her Island accent
Though I don't know half of what she says

Whatever it is
About this lady, Isis
This goddess
Isis
That keeps my eyes
Searching for her to pass me by
As I move throughout the day
I cannot say
But truthfully, I do not care to know.
 
Copyright © poetic313, All Rights Reserved