if I were yours and you were mine
I’d cherish each minute we shared
I’d savor the smiles, giggles, and coos
swirling in the passionate air
I’d wake you with a warm caress
kiss your cheek as I rush to the fray
ache for your lips thru the working grind
then return with a flower each day
mondays would bring you a daisy
dainty and soft as your honeyed skin
to lift you up if you’re feeling tired
reviving that sly, girlish grin
tuesdays would find an iris in hand
petals stretched toward the golden sun
praising your wisdom and courage
and the depth of unwavering love
wednesdays would leave a hydrangea
from the gardens of heaven’s gate
that would pale in true resemblance
to your timeless beauty and grace
thursdays would be one step closer
to a weekend in rapture’s arms
so, I’d bring you a teasing lilac
as crisp as your feminine charm
each friday I’d pick a wild flower
from some farmer’s field or meadow
a different variety every week
representing some magic moment
on our way from saturdays’ market
I’d secretly buy you wine and a rose
and place them on the nightstand
with a few lines of verse in a note
I’d let you sleep in sunday mornings,
lay a carnation beside your sweet face
enriching your dreamy sensations
looking forward to next week’s bouquet
and in the bleak of a cruel winter’s eve
as colors fade and float to the fire
you could let your tears drop on my chest with no explanation required
I’d cherish each minute we shared
I’d savor the smiles, giggles, and coos
swirling in the passionate air
I’d wake you with a warm caress
kiss your cheek as I rush to the fray
ache for your lips thru the working grind
then return with a flower each day
mondays would bring you a daisy
dainty and soft as your honeyed skin
to lift you up if you’re feeling tired
reviving that sly, girlish grin
tuesdays would find an iris in hand
petals stretched toward the golden sun
praising your wisdom and courage
and the depth of unwavering love
wednesdays would leave a hydrangea
from the gardens of heaven’s gate
that would pale in true resemblance
to your timeless beauty and grace
thursdays would be one step closer
to a weekend in rapture’s arms
so, I’d bring you a teasing lilac
as crisp as your feminine charm
each friday I’d pick a wild flower
from some farmer’s field or meadow
a different variety every week
representing some magic moment
on our way from saturdays’ market
I’d secretly buy you wine and a rose
and place them on the nightstand
with a few lines of verse in a note
I’d let you sleep in sunday mornings,
lay a carnation beside your sweet face
enriching your dreamy sensations
looking forward to next week’s bouquet
and in the bleak of a cruel winter’s eve
as colors fade and float to the fire
you could let your tears drop on my chest with no explanation required
Grand
Rapids, Michigan '14