A Procrastinated Proclamation

A delayed declaration.

I will tell you of the time I sat before my computer screen,

where I silently store all my important thoughts,

with intents to write a poem for you.

Within my mind swam the many stories, many memories,

and many qualities that I think of when I think of you.

So often do these details strike me

that I will see you in a slice of pie,

or a blade of grass, or a butterfly wing.

You are many sweet and beautiful things.

Yet I sat there with this plan, this goal in mind-

show you how I feel in verse and complex words-

and without any clue as to where I should begin.

Should I mention your eyes?

How they have never made me think of such banal tropes

as the wide open sky or the deep blue sea,

but of something so simple as a robin's egg?

Small and speckled and full of every possibility life promises?

But no, that isn't enough.

I could tell you all about your smile,

your lips and your teeth- or your laugh, which is related.

I could go on for hours about your hands-

which are delicate and soft and capable of such fine lines

and such sharp details, all of which mine could never imagine containing.

But then there are your cheeks, and your hips-`

which I would be crazy not to mention-

and your hair and your so-safe embrace, why...

a thousand pages couldn't tell it all, no matter how I tried.

So I faced a dilemma as I sat there that night,

staring blankly at a white page, counting the number of times

that little line flashed waiting for me to type, until I did,

and all that came out was this:

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.