For Michael Abolafia.

Author's Note- Dearest writers; when someone is utterly beyond words, attempt to describe them anyhow.

I pen this truth now, on a love I profess,
I reveal most sincerely, with a solemnest swear.
No knight across the land twas ever slight contest.
Truly a gallant lad, wholly fine and fair.
Others were wicked, playing as day to my night
Rising for sun, once I had fallen for darkness
Others had forsaken me, in a realm devoid of light
He lassoed the moon, illuminating each branch of cypress.
For many a year, I lonesomely wandered.
This garden so barren, this soul unsustained!
Submitting to sorrow, many tears had I squandered.
Yet! retiring that drought, he coaxed out the rain;
And under blossom of willow, below said branch of cypress,
He placed a hand to mine wilted heart, and lovingly impressed.