God’s drawing a painting and it’s you before my eyes
He brushes strokes of genius when he put gems as your eyes
Your lips are painted like crimson roses and blue are your skies
He paints your smile as if a cloud for an angel to reside
Your height reaches the steps to heaven and your feet are the guide
Hands created from a marble mountain to lift others to rise
Your body an instrument of love and truth is by your side
He painted you the voice of reason, like a tree of life, so wise
I crawl upon your teachings like a grape upon a vine
© Delia Ross. 2019
Okay, initially I freestyle wrote this as a non-rhyme, but then tweeked it into a rhyme because he’s worth it. I really couldn’t get around the double word in the first 2 lines, so they remained untouched and as is. They were the basis for the entire poem. He’s my muse so he is a prompt. Like, just the mere sight of him. But then you should listen to the things he will say, or how his body will move. And I’ve lived all over the world, seen all kinds of boys, but none like him. He’s a miracle. Anyhoo, it’s just a poem, don’t freak out, I’m just writing what I see. He’s a lighthouse in the dark. I wanna focus on the light. It’s now after 4 AM. Another “after midnight poetry series”, I should make that a thing.
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