Andrew Jones

I guess that I have always thought that you
Deserve a poem with perfect metric rhyme
So sonnets are how I have chosen to
Depict how love is crowned with the prime

Your hair flows down, amazing, lustrous blonde
Your eyes are stars on perfect cloudless nights
Your lips intrigue and beckon me, so fond
Your mind still hides a bit from all my sights

Your hands are more than silky-smooth, they’re pure
Your feet are swift and perfect ways to lead
Your touch an unexpected comfort, cure
Your walk some how a light in time of need

Your presence just the one I would select
Your everything needs not more to perfect