You are the apple of my eye,
And, still today, I don’t know why.
You can be sweet; you can be cruel,
But, for your love, I am a fool.
I overlook each whim and fault,
To see the praise that you exalt;
For reasons I cannot explain,
My love for you could never wave.
You are the song within my soul;
The notes which make my story whole.
You can be loud; you can be bold,
But, my love shall never grow old.
I look beyond what you are not,
To see the boy that time forgot;
The lad, alive since time began –
The child within the soul of man.
You are the snow upon the hill,
The petals of each daffodil,
The summer breezes I remember,
And leaves that tumble in September.
Yet, even still, I cannot say,
Why I love you, much more each day;
But I know, ‘til the hour I die,
You’ll be the apple of my eye.
© 2007 – Jill Eisnaugle’s Poetry Collection