Exotic is a word <br />that rings <br />inside my ears <br />like violins. <br />Sounds of great beauty <br />rising up with grace <br />into the evening sky. <br />The Maistro hesitates <br />then turns <br />and climbs the stairs <br />into the spire <br />where Martin Luther wrote, <br />and thought, <br />where one late night <br />the Devil knocked <br />to cast false dice, <br />exotic was the walk <br />alone, <br />Canossa, it was his. <br />The world is filled <br />with things, <br />exquisite hues <br />and crystals of <br />fine angel tears. <br />But YOU, my LOVE, <br />you are so far beyond <br />that there can never be <br />a word for you, <br />none would suffice <br />and that is why I write, <br />I offer you my soul, <br />it is a simple one <br />and claims no great noblesse, <br />perhaps you'd let me <br />shower you <br />with ordinary ones, <br />those kisses <br />that transfixed the time <br />obscurely <br />like the flower <br />by that happy name.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/good-day-my-love/
