Rainy Daydream

She likes indian food,

My muse, somehow poetic,

And rhythmic too, she dances.

Her smile is the kind of bright that

Shines through any gloom or shade.

With lips softer than rose petals,

sweet as sugarcane, she's

asphyxiatingly pretty. High cheek bones and a sharp nose, faery-tale esque, and flexible. Her minds as quick as a hummingbirds wings, her laughter sings like harpstrings, and her wit cracks sound barriers. A queen, I think, if all things being seen are even, honestly deity, maybe one time she will see what I see. But until then, she's ticklish, And hates it.

   I havent told her yet, but the line goes, "sorry it took me so long to find you, I had to search the world after all." Before she really does put an ocean between us, but I know I'd be the,

First to call and hope I meet her, in the streets of some city, sweepin my heavy feet in defeat when shed be there. Like destiny.

She said "but if I'm xyz," how can she please me?"

As if there was, Anything,

further from my mind. I said gimme time, she said how much do you need? I said all of hers and all of mine and probably a couple three more lifetimes before id know why youre mine, I mean, I know you might not be mine but won't you?

Meanwhile, my hearts racing and I cant concentrate and i'm already elated and half baked, hands shaking, I, remember this conversation is figmentatious and in my wildest imagination, smoking in the rain deciding on whether or not to send this message, or just wait.