The fire in her eyes lights again

when she speaks,

and her words come out quick

like a rush water leak,

and she'll speak of his love

'til she can't talk no more

so to keep track of what

will float by through the door,

so excited again

more so than she should be,

she'll expect and she'll bend

more than he'll care to see,

but the joy in the gift he denies as her love

is the joy in the gift she once spied on a dove,

on wings white as light floating up on blue air

she said, look, sure as flight, I know my love is there...

The fire in his eyes, new one, light 

when she speaks

adoration is quick

like a hot  water leak,

and he'll speak of this girl

'til he can't speak no more

might to keep track of what

flows too fast through the door

she's opened with her rhyme,

matching seams perfectly,

in the mends, while he gives

not a care to receive

'cause the joy in the gift that he's found

in her love

is the joy from the hope

that SHE spied on the dove....

on those wings white as light floating up in blue air

she said, look, sure as flight, I know my love is there,

on wings white as light, flying high in the air,

she knew

sure as flight

that.her love would be there..

Rose Loya Copyright 2008