There’s no blueprint for You my love.
Even I
could draw a bird, or a flower, or a tree or a _
But

not of You.

No one knew

the curve of those lips
or
how stars would splash across your face
in an array
No one,

not One
in a zillion

years

 could have sketched

Just
So.
Or how that hair
golden flax
jet black
would
fall down your
shoulders

Across the curve of your spine

with my finger

I did draw

C-A-T

touching

the nubs of

Your spine.

-?-

Yes,

You got it:

CAT!

There’s no blueprint for You my love.

Those eyes

that challenge me, dare me, want me.

Your laugh.

Always.

Always it makes me smile

Or laugh too.

And You–
How high You can jump.
So high

with joy
of the purest intent.

How You jump.

And how

You  fall.

So red.

Running
down my fingertips

dripping
into the creases of my palm.
Your blood.

There

On my skin.
How far You can fall.

But I’ve seen You climb

Up

and

Out

into those tree branches

 twisting and curving
even snapping
with your foot.

Get me down.
no.
You got up there.
You get down.
You.

There’s no blueprint for You my love

that infectious goodness seeping
from your pores:

melting its way out from You

 into me,

into everyone.

There’s no blueprint for You my love:

No.

Not for You

My Love.