Her Simile

Her touch is like poison,
It enters my blood,
Makes way to my heart,
Creating a flood.

The flood I must battle,
To keep the path clear,
The path of the will,
With truth always near.

Her presence like nectar,
From a sweet ripen fruit,
My soul soaks it up,
Like an old dried up root.

The nectar I preserve,
For times are not long,
But memories will last,
After fruit is all gone.

Her voice is like art,
So beautiful and free,
Each time with a message,
Speaking dearly to me.

I hear the music now,
Enigmas of a bird,
Painting pictures in my mind,
Without saying a word.

R.S. 01/04