Four Years

He is to me a sonnet’s perfect rhyme.
He is a flawless lyric in a song.
He is its music, stirring and sublime,
Evoking me to ever sing along.
He is a fate an optimist predicts.
He is a writer’s grand and timeless tome.
His very presence mortar to my bricks;
Wherever he is, and am I, we’re home.
His voice a tune of which I never tire;
His smile an enduring work of art.
His ev’ry move and gesture stealth conspire,
To catch my breath and pause my beating heart.
He’s ev’rything that stirs in me response;
He is my passion and my renaissance.

Happy Anniversary, Mr. Shakes. I love you.

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