She is a line of poetry
A verse to end our sweet couplet
The rhyme to my lack of reason
Every time my eyes meter own
Iambicoming more undone
As I sonnetly watch her smile
Lips parody a waning moon
Personified its subtle pride
There is lyric in the way she moves
A rhythm to her swaying hips
Melody of her humming voice
Is a song in and of itself
What else could a poem covet
Than the true work of art that made it