She liked poetry
Because it helped define everything.

Like why she pictured him
Painting outer space,
The stars, the sun,
The moon, and the dark black holes.

And she thought that he,
With his contagious laughter,
Had mapped out the sea,
To pick her out of it,
Like a dandelion,
One, out of all of the field.

And all of town square,
Even the lucent city lights,
Couldn't compare to his eyes.

Or the way he wished,
That some things would never change.

She knew, however, that carefully
He drew the creases in her smile,
In hopes that somehow,
She was able to love him.

But she thought the world of him,
Because somehow he
Painted the stars in the sky.