This is not a poem, because the meaning is Secret

This is not a poem, because the meaning is Secret

today she came to me.

through the beauty of morning sky
she came to me.
through connecting with old friends
she held my hand.
through playful, nonsensical banter
she tickled my insides.
through confronting my totem
she challenged me.
through learning of a friend’s current path
she inspired me.
through mastering a day’s work
she gave me confidence.
through a dog’s trust
she made me vulnerable.

Through all these things, and so much more,
My Muse spoke directly inside my soulplace.
She filled me with so much…..
ahhhh, I cannot explain.
there is too much, so much, …..

No really, I have no words for you today
only these paltry few letters strung together
masquerading as love.

just know
My Lover gave me quite a gift,
and it was for me,
and me alone.

My Lover, is grand, wise, and such a looker
My Lover inspires,
even when She speaks
through the rising sun
or a shaggy beard
or a beautiful tiny witch
or the wings of Heron
or didactic method
or capitalist goals
or a trusting dog’s eyes…

The Universe gives,
and gives,
and then gives me more.
(yes – we’re dating, the Universe and I)

I’m sorry that all I can share
are these measly,
and small
little words.
but inside is a Magic
only for HER eyes.

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