As we progress further and further,
I have a blast but I’m stricken with questions.

How do I write poetry,
That make even your thoughts love me?
How do I play piano,
That make even your ears love me?

I’m just wandering,
How do I make you happy?
I have more questions for you, love.

How do I listen,
That makes even your tongue love me?
How do I dance,
That makes even your feet love me?

We are aging further into life.
Yet all I think of is you,
You and these questions.

How do I dress,
That makes even your eyes love me?
How do I take care of you,
That makes even you love me?

Love,
Questions,
You.
© tmrf