My love, you’re a white floral garden.
Yes, plain and simple like a painted picture.
Yet I’d study and stare at such a fixture.
And when we kiss, your lips are wet and rich,
Just like honey – simple… sweet… velvety…
Yet tasting of the highest complexity.
When I hear your voice, it’s more than a song
Composed of the grandest melody –
Yet contained in a simple sigh – like unsaid poetry. . .