Learning to swim

My love,

You have complained of stale
bread, when you think of me.
While I lack the ability to regale
I will try to fulfill your subtle plea.

If my life were a dictionary,
you would surely be aardvark
for being the top priority.

The scenario in Noah’s ark
floods me with rough envy:
if only we were the soul two of a kind,
flank to flank up the gangplank
separated from all else by strict sea
(except the rest of the menagerie)
my rivals could only drown behind.

Does this show of jealousy surprise you?
I know suspicions arise that I am robot
from tide to tide. But I assure you not –
though sometimes forgetful it’s true
with calls and dates, and I did buy
a pound cake as gift on Valentine’s (I now know
that is not acceptable/romantic and why)
so you should know too that there is no
deliberate or sloppy involved; I do try
(it took me hours finding the perfect pound cake!
and would have made my own if only I could bake)

With you, the world spins west
and all my directions are confused;
which way to turn my head becomes a test.
I never used to muse, but trust me I have mused
over you my amuse who have planted seeds
of strange flowers within my yard of weeds.
I don’t think I used to feel even half as much before,
still acclimatizing to life in the sky since the floor
was where I roamed. (See, you even have me
using words like “roam”, taking some liberty
of imagination; I used to walk everywhere.

I cannot comprehend your wondering stare
at sunlit streets, and star-filled night plains
your precious mind filled with the delight
of existence, while heart overflows with its pains
and trying by osmosis to learn, I hold you tight.

Quantum physics is a piece of (pound) cake,
but you are a proper Valentine’s present,
and I a gorilla in a crystalline lake
trying to swim.