Her heart strums, like the quiver of a violin bow,
Words escaping her lips with ease.
Warmth enfolds, spreading across cheeks aglow.
His delightfully torturous words tease,
Inundating her with the play of imagery
Dancing across the imagination, set free
To thrill and inspire.
He always captures her in his poetic scripts
Placing her in gardens of metaphorical rhyme,
With the scent of roses, and poesy on her lips.
Drunken with sweet wine of memories penned, sublime.
Epodic reflections take her on journeys to distant places,
Enchanting seascapes and exotic faces,
The hint of love forever in her mind.
Immersing herself in streams of verse
Wandering through paths divined by his muse,
Left breathless, reeling, senses coerce.
Her spellbound heart quickens, as his words suffuse,
The spell is only broken, by the sound of a clock
Ticking slowly, tick…tock…tick…tock
Her heart remembers to slow.