Barrett Browning counted the ways,
Dickinson longed for wild nights
And Shakespearian sonnet proved
You don't need beauty to be beloved.
Myself, I haven't the silver tongue
To spin such sparkling words.
Nor does my pen maintain the grace,
To even try would be a waste.
The best that I can offer
Compares you to simple things
Like warm clothes from the dryer
Not an angel, exhalted higher.
Driving with windows down
Or the last slice of pie in a diner
Cannot compare to a summer's day
Or fairy tale lovers, far, far away.
What I mean to explain is
Everything reminds me of you.
And while "She Walks in Beauty" is nice,
It's not enough, it won't suffice.
Japanese novels and the King of Rock and Roll,
Starry nights on a Hot Tin Roof.
How can I fit all the things I love about you
In a poem's rhyming line or two?
I hope you understand, and don't mock too long
The words are weak and silly, but the meaning clear and strong.
I had to try and list some of the ways you are my light.
Perhaps, after all, Elizabeth Barrett Browning was right.
