I was going about my business when I heard a nightingale sing,
Dropped everything and came to join in the praise and worship,
To worship He who created she who opens her mouth;
To stir and whip up a storm of love rivers running through my being,
Love for the beauty of poetry is not the reason I write my love to you,
My love for rhyme is not the reason that I write this poem for you,
Sweet poetic prose is not the reason,
Melodious rhyme is not the reason that I recite this love ballad for you,
For out of a sudden my love for any other thing but God,
Is diminished and pales in comparison to my love for you,
I offer my heart stripped and bare to you,
Literature is not the reason that I plan to serenade you,
The reason is love,
The one you draw me to,
And until you reciprocate or retaliate,
I'll bask in the dangerously soothing fires of your love!
Brussels © November 2014 afesehngwaHilary
