It’s The Glamour

It is the glamour, my amour, Your sense of style, and your smile. The way you stroll daily on the aisle, And the image that you flash that I adore. The stars that illumine your eyes, The flowers that you wear during the day, And the interesting chat that inspires The Poet in awe, along the way. It’s the intangibility of the dreams, That will not go with the magic rug, And your gentle genre of raising steams Around me that enhances the beauty of the fog. It’s quasi-phantasmagoric to be by you, And to inhale your angelic scent. The aroma Of your mental breath softens the onomatopoeia, That is part of the landscape and the dew. It’s the glamour, mon amour, The essence of being happy with you, The silhouette that I genuinely adore, And the thought that you want me too.