His eyes, those sapphire forget-me-nots,
blue like my pen’s bleeding heart, I ought
to drown myself in his floral smile
that curls his tulips in classic style
His cheeks a soft rose, fit for a snapshot.
He sprouts hope, blossoming in my thoughts.
I’m in love with this lily of the nile
and his forget-me-not eyes
His soul down to earth, with roots that cannot
be pulled up or contained by a clay pot.
A heart of marigold and mind fertile,
full of wisdom to grow the extra mile.
I love his heart, mind, his smile and whatnot
and his forget-me-not eyes.