Saving The Best Until Last Poem by Mark Heathcote

All your Hearts music thus far was an overture
it's a matinée, a prelude to what is the real affair
it was a practice run saving the best until the last.
Your thoughts are transparent as the morning vapour
your love is priceless it soaks me right through
your voice has likened a harmony; it is music mid-air.
I'm always waiting for you in the middle of a story
waiting in the wings to open each-and-every chapter
I know you feel the same way by the way that you stare
your love is the vitality I feel quickening my pulse
your scented like a musk rose slightly pungent
it's hypnotic just to breathe the same languid air
knowing these overtures are now finally finished
our recitals of love are now set as the main event
this-was very pleasing to all the birds & bees
who'd second-guessed it, given to rapturous applause?