One of a hundred, and one of a million to come
If Shakespeare had met you, your name would have never died
For it would have lived in literature till the end of time
The smoothest stone in the Arctic would have lay at your feet
The graves scream when you pass by, for they see such life in you
And without you, what a spooky world it would be
My bones would crush, my stomach would bleed
I would die within
Your breath is that of life
The hummingbirds flapping their wings
Is a testament to the way my heart reacts
When it sees
You