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Heaven in Her Eyes
I sit here, waiting. Waiting for inspiration to blind-side me.
I look around until I see a stack of stories & I remember when I wrote them, when I had that endless amount of creativity.
Then I think of the woman who made everything bearable.
With her around, everything’s not so terrible.
My fingers got to work before my brain told them to do so.
I wrote “Her voice is what symphonies are made of. When I see her, my heart is anything but slow.
Her lips are what Shakespeare wrote of, & I hope one day those beautiful lips will utter to me ‘Love’.
Her eyes are what DaVinci had in mind, for she is an angel. She is truly one of a kind.
She holds herself with such Audrey Hepburn grace, to where you can’t help but have a smile on your face.
I can’t help, but feel humble. When I talk to her, her beauty astounds me to where I unknowingly mumble.
She makes every experience last. She’s always determined in her present task.
Her hair is of brilliant gold & I hope it’ll stay that way when she’s, heaven forbid, old.
She’s my life house leading me to shore. When I grow old, her presence is what I ask & nothing more.
If she’s sad & blue, I’ll ask, ‘Dear Angel, what’s wrong with you?’
And even as she’s sad & cries, I can still see heaven in her eyes.”