Something divine in your features lie,

something sacred and untold, 

something passionate and something bold

with admiration I look at you, 

with amorous intentions too.

 Your eyes blue and defined,

your lips speak words without speaking, 

your heart I know is true,

in words and in  actions

and in reverse.

So roses are red and violets are blue. 

I’ll riddle this in cliche, though I don’t mean too. 

So what is love?

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

Our hands doth meet and our gaze doth not part

our lips may touch 

and tell venturous passionate tales

but quickly part to my dismay

at the sharp opening of a door.