I am a penguin and love is a polar bear.
Can anyone say what that means?
I must keep talking or else you will leave.

Your hair is something soft, like a gentle-flowing
Meadowstream, rolling through the crisp autumn air.
If I cannot think of something you will leave me all alone.

She is wanting something smaller than a poem, something
Shorter than a breath.
She is asking for an ocean in an instant,
Not a tempest. This I do not understand.

Are my muses not enough for you? The music-
Does its cadence leave you dead? My love, do speak.
My hands are cold, too often I have heard,
But why I've never learned. I digress.

As I speak, as I tell you my heart is a belfry
Only you can ring,
Ever more of my face is seen echoed
In your eyes, you who count me a friend of your soul, you
Who warrant more accolades than the stars of the seashore,

Than the sands of the sky! And in a moment
The mirror I adore rolls down your cheek.
She wanted less than this. She wanted
Me, with a quiet heart. With a gentle touch.
Something hushed and subtle. A sunrise, not a symphony.

A moment, not a day.

And as she falls into my arms with sobs and
Burning tears I feel soak through my chest
To wet my heart,
My soul is silent and my tongue is still. She will not leave.
And even now, the poet hides himself away; I hope I do not see him in me
'Til I write this down someday.