The Mystery Of Love

"His eyes are misty like a gloomy day.
Explaining what went wrong,
he tells what he sees.
I wanted to grasp and hold him,
but he vanished like a vague memory.
Floating and dropping as if he were a petal of love.
Rising and falling like a wounded dove.
He's very distinct." "Pardon me love,"
He's very discreet, elegant, and sweet.
His presence is so remarkable you can't help but to fall at his feet.
A "God", but he thinks that most sees him as a peasant.
So benevolent when he speaks.
His voice flows like a quiet stream when he greets.
If I were a thief, his heart, I would steal,
but living here without his presence would be too much for me to feel.
When he enters the room he brings the room much light.
He's always full of color, not the color of clothing,
but the color of life.
The perseverance he has is a culture that he carries within.
He's graceful, always on point, lovable, yet sharper than a needle pin.

© Corinne