He's the water of my rain
The blood that runs my veins
He's the ying to my yang
The big boom to my big bang.
He's the air in my wind
The oil that's in my skin
My burning fire within
The exotic places I've been
He's the tip of my Tippy-toe
The safe place I like to go
The kick back in my slow
The smooth motion of my flow
He's the large of my small
The up in my downfall
The inner of my sacred wall
The strength of my all
He's the mate of my soul
The sparkle in my gold
The flip in my fold
The years of my old.
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Comments: 30
Very nice.
He is my everything. My air, and my breath. My peace of mind.
I thank you.
I like the way you tie it all together by starting each stanza with "He."
And I think the last stanza is special, especially the last two lines:
The flip in my fold
The years of my old.
Without him you would be like a piece of flat fabric and whatever makes your total, he's all the pieces/years of it.
Thanks for taking time to read.
Sorry, but I give an honest opinion.
It takes years to become old but they're not always warm, though. still.....You spark conversation.! I appreciate you.
Thanks for commenting.