With little or too many words
I must confess to thee
The beauty you think is fleeting
Has become a muse to me
Not seasons or years combine
Reveal truth about your age
Neither your voice or your smile
Conclude youth or a sage
Even still when sickness comes
Or you find fatigue
You remain the perfect woman
A daydream and intrigue
I love the way you have written
May god bless you
Thank you. Glad to see you again.