He Poem by Niealie Petit
He
His presence haunts my soul,
like the quiet that consumes a deaf man's ears
or the warmth that blankets a long summer's night.
His voice; a mellifluous, melodious, melody of sound
that reverberates in my ears.
Does he know his perfection? Does he even notice it-hanging
about him like a ripened apple just waiting to be plucked.
He is everything extraordinary about man.
He is brilliance personified.
Does he know his beauty? Does he even recognize it-striking
like a bed of dandelions dancing in the spring, just dying to be seen.
He is an intricately woven human tapestry.
He is both art & life.
But, to me, he is simply he.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 4:41:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Read this wonderful poem. So much of love and respect for 'him'! 'He is an intricately woven human tapestry. He is both art & life.' - What could be more appreciative of a man's qualities, as seen by a woman? Marvelous! 10/10.