Twelve months from now,
to figure out how,
where and when we’ll meet,
my Precious thing of sweet.

I’ll greet you with some flowers,
we’ll talk for eleven hours,
until our throats are sore,
and then we will talk some more.

Ten minutes long gaze,
in your eyes and on your face.
I’ll admire you, compliment,
my dearest sweetie, heaven-sent.

After nine cups of fine wine,
I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine.
Then it gets lil‘ cereal,
no child-friendly material.

At eight o’clock we’ll get up,
cocoa, breakfast, nice set up.
For lunch we’ll have some stew,
with the flavour of I love you.

Seven days of the week,
listening to a sound of creek,
to cozy crackling in the fireplace,
to the silence of the wide space.

Sixth month’s when you celebrate,
we‘ll eat the whole fruit cake,
in our stuffed and the still state,
we’ll cuddle for long as it will take.

At least for five long years,
just joy and no more tears.
Each day hugs, and thing as such,
next day there’ll be twice as much.

Four kisses per minute,
anywhere, I mean it!
Four poems to you dedicated,
hopefully you’re still not sated.

Three is the love‘s number,
waking me from the deep slumber,
Sea, summer and sunny weather,
you and me - altogether.

Two bright eyes of the lake-blue,
glowing at me from the distance,
all these words are frank and true,
forming this nice word-dance.

One love, the one that blinds us,
makes me happy, makes me sing.
It needs something that will bind us -
the One everlasting Ring.

© Oceanborne