Do not speak to me

Do not speak to me

Of poetry and beauty,

In words I do not use.

It does not matter

About the syllables,

The choice of phrase,

Or the clever use

Of metaphors,

As if they were caught

In a butterfly net.

Those pretty winged

Words, tossed and turned

For so long,

You were made dizzy,

By the liveliness,

Of the chase,

And the excitement it induced,

As they fluttered out of reach.

Floating on thermals,

Carrying the hope

Of your true love through

The darkness of extremis,

Through winding passages

Of uncertainty,

Until they found

A resting place,

In the welcome

Lightness of your heart,

Now beating, with the sureness

Of its purpose.

No mythical distraction,

Literary invention,

Or use of ancient text

To hide the truth

Of your intention.

Use no disguise

To sound so worldly wise,

The message obscured

By the heavy weight

Of language,

Words that are a reason

In themselves.

Rather than the bearers

Of a message

That needs to be sincere.

Written in true

And honest ways

Simply put and clear,

Not a tome or saga,

A gentle song will do,

All it really needs to say

Is my sweet darling,

I love you.