I have no rhymes for you, no metaphors
And sonnets are old-fashioned.
I could compare you to something beautiful,
Compare you to the Moon undressing of her pride
To bathe in a turquoise lagoon
Garlanded with coral reefs
And fanned by palms and birds of paradise.
But you are nothing like that
You are
Swish-whoosh-twinkle-twinkle-flutter-flutter
You are as simple as a glass of water
During the tyranny
Of a summer afternoon.
Still, that would not do
You would not understand
You would think
I was some helpless poet
Trying too hard
To make you his muse.
Better not say anything then
Better keep silent
For in such matters
There’s much eloquence in silence.
***
Photo by Ian Keefe on Unsplash
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