Four Point Eight: Limerence

He's now the color the dawn wears for me to behold each morning no matter how bland and monotonous is the rising He's the serenading hello conveyed by the birds' early lilt when I'm amongst limping creature bound to wilt He fills up the cup of my luscious refreshment- a dose to quench me with merriment He's that perking mood to start my day and a pause to breathe fine in the middle of a fray I know nothing beyond his name and he's another bright portrait I cannot claim I'd like for him to not just be a tempting limerence that this may never be a departing sentence...