When writing of you

Perplexed am I to the form.

No mold can contain you.

So much of life is a Parody,

Laughing at your ingrained silliness,

The mischievousness of your smile,

Twinkling eyes with a smoldering fire.

Haiku’s genteel nature is far too small,

Sister Tanka tries to express,

But her attention is much too short.

Perhaps an Ode would suffice

For flattery is your just due,

Ensued by inevitable embarrassment.

I could venture to sum your essence

Through the singularity of an Acrostic

Though this would scarcely scratch the surface.

Perhaps Triolet would be more fitting,

For none too often can I express the depth of my love;

Repetition surely would serve as reminder.

Even with all these

None can capture your unrestrained spirit,

The flow of you through space and time.

I will not try to confine you, that would be unfair.

Instead I will let you spread your wings

Writing your own verse

In the form of…

Free.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~