There is a place where I lose myself...
Your hair: a cascading wave of shimmering black,
framing your face and rolling down your back.
Your eyes: shimmering pools, both dark and bright,
exuding patience and care, never spite.
Your cheeks: smooth and soft,
serving as pillars to hold your eyes aloft.
Your lips: able to contort into a tender smile,
or into a kiss, so versatile.
Your mind: a tool so keen,
honed sharp for someone only sixteen.
Your voice: a music to my ears,
a melodious sound to remember all my years.
A place that is yourself.