to you**

Of poetry and sonnets, I’m afraid I must confess,
My knowledge is most basic, my understanding scant,
But I know a poem is poignant, pleasant, elegant,
And the best verse merely words in flowery dress.
I know no more of music, nor anything of harmony,
Than any man who listens, and fails to comprehend,
Choruses, bridges, and the perfect vocal blend;
Yet even I can attest, to the beauty of a melody.
On romance, my love, I am the greenest child,
I know not how to soothe, to serenade, to charm,
But I have seen your beauty, and my heart is in alarm,
I knew that I must have you, the second that you smiled.
So here I write a poem, sing melodies to you,
Pray tell, my darling, what more shall I do?

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