My Queen Poem by Ibn Ali

She asks me why I like her,
This is what I say,
'I like you cos I do, Why? I can't explain'
Perhaps your smiles to blame,
Or maybe it's your laughter,
That silly face you make,
Or the fit of giggles after,
Maybe it's your beauty,
Ah, but this is not uncommon,
There's something else that's rarer,
Something that keeps me wanting,
It's not your storytelling,
Of this I'm deadly certain,
It takes an age to tell a page
And I've still to see the purpose,
Your naivety is cute,
You look for good in every person,
You're not what I'd call astute,
Or overly observant,
But you are to me my Queen,
No crown nested on your head
And in truth It would not be fitting,
How pale is gold?
How cheap the sight when perched atop that vision,
My queen you light the way and they all dull when in your presence,
Though beauty is the norm
Dignity is not bestowed on common women,
I've gazed at you an age and I've still to be immune,
Staring at the sun would only serve to blind a lustful fool,
As if there came to me a dream,
A dream where love was cruel,
And hatred was more true,
So in spite of love, it grew,
But dreams are dreams, sometimes unreal,
Life stays uninfluenced.