Fitting of me comparing you this way;
Of course like most I strive to find a mate
Regale to liken to a summer’s day
How much more lovely and more temperate
Or brighter and more beautiful you seem
Like the feeling I am the antonym
Lost in this: not balanced, a walking dream
You though: stability, the synonym,
My song ecclesiastical; you are
Only a metronome by which my heart
Rhythmically endears though you live so far:
Growing fantastical, fast from the start.
A message so simple, for you my muse,
Never forgotten lest my flame I lose.
© Kris Blackburn 18/09/2015