To the one who holds my heart in her hand.
He wanted to tell her, in the style of prose,
Her sweetness, her beauty, is that of a rose
So bear with him, as he begins with a rhyme,
His feelings for her, will last for all time
Today he doesn't feel quite so cold,
For she has allowed him, a brief loving hold.
His heart on a chain, she wore on her chest,
It's still dangling there, shining it's best.
He's not alone in the quest for her heart,
But a piece has been given him, and that is a start.
He will charm and entice, try to create an allure,
She has an itch, for which he is the cure.
Her effect on him is hard to deny,
Her physical beauty, no one can belie.
But what makes it special, beyond all compare,
Is that she reads his thoughts, and that is so rare.
They fit together with ease and with grace,
To her arms, he wants to eagerly race.
He waits for the day, he's alone in her mind,
And hopes beyond hope, life is so kind.