A Poem I Wrote Recently

I Really Am a Daytime Friend

I really am a daytime friend.
Days aren't romantic, poets say,
"For romance, nights should never end."
Apparently, a day is not the way
To go.

They speak of starry, sparkling skies,
Above your truly wondrous eyes,
The moonlit ponds, and hanging willows,
And soft, dark fronds: the ferns like pillows
Below.

But what of daytime elements?
"For they, romance was never meant,"
The poets say, naught do I listen,
As on your rosy cheeks tears glisten,
But let them fall, I'll not allow,
I will allay your fears, I vow.

So what of the sun in the skies above,
Though not brighter than your smile, my love –
Why still must it be set apart?
Can it not reach your heart?
Catch your glance?
It's a chance… What if it cannot play the part?

And what of roses, white and red,
Though no match for thy lovely head –
And trees, with strength of giant's hand –
Against your will they'd never stand.
And never do I see
Something to surpass thee,
For in the daytime, troubles grow,
It lacks all rhyme and reason, no?

Yet still I refuse to give in;
This poet’s argument I'll win.
I'll speak of fields of butterflies
Beneath blue and lightly clouded skies...
The oh! so soft and fluffy clouds –
No match to your name said aloud.

No.

For once, the poets' words ring true:
Amongst the daytime members, you
Stand all alone – all by yourself,
With grace and wisdom of an elf.
You meet your match with darkened skies
Aflame with stars, night ocean breezes
From afar, and brightly shimmering moonrise.
With these my heart, so touched, unfreezes –
Your soul is matched, your beauty stilled,
And heart and mind with love is filled.

But if I was to hear your voice,
'Twould tip the scales, and I'd rejoice,
The poets now could eat their words,
The source of loveliness I'd heard.

Nothing - no - not stars, nor moon,
Nor roses that unfurl too soon –
No - nothing could convince me so.
You the night deserves not know.