But This Is What I Do

I fall hard
but this is what I do.
I imagine long walks,
you pointing out the vision
I see as reality,
but this is what I do.
I picture myself as a flower,
each petal adored, even
in her simplicity,
but this is what I do.
The vast Midwestern skyline
of Nebraska takes me to
where you are daily, and I pray
but this is what I do.
I wander inside of a daydream
where we exist as one,
but this is what I do.

To Know Her, Is To Love Her

one
the color of her pudgy nose
when it’s cold outside
and she’s in her happy place
called Late Autumn

two
sides to her sassy mouth
often chewed upon
when she attempts
to slide away, giggling 

three
deep dimples
worth searching for
after finding two, living
beside her shy smile

four
corners to two hazel eyes
who’ve witnessed pain,
but questioned perfection
with sparkled contentment 

five
toes, each foot
she often wished were
painted in a rainbow of
your favorite colors

six
freckles lay, forever
atop a ring finger
she often wonders
is worthy of adornment

seven
calming breaths needed
on a quiet, dark night
when dreams
come to soothe her

eight
miles from town
she’s driven, even walked
in order to feel
closer to simple 

nine
her favorite number
and the many opportunities
it’ll take to convince her,
an introverted extrovert 

ten
fingers, yes, predictable
but that’s what she adores
craves, the honesty
trust and unity provide