Date a girl who seems to be
Always speaking poetry
About pastoral places, bright,
With fauna, flora, bathed in light.
Comparing you to summer days,
Or trees that filter sunny rays
Or flowers blooming, scented sweet;
And lays those flowers at your feet.
She never speaks in not-a-verse
About the hidden universe
That she sees gleaming in your gaze;
Or in your sighs, the morning haze
That brushed in swirling, cooling mist
Against her mouth when you first kissed.
It was in that moment, soft, sublime,
That she first learned that she could rhyme.