What I Think of You

What do I think of you?
A million times asked,
A million times vaguely answered.

What do I think of you?
I can say you're a firefly
Against my endless evening sky,
The joy
In each moment's passing ploy,
And I can also start to dwindle my words
To passing
Just to make you feel good.

Honestly, what do I think of you?
You're my pianist,
who plays with notes like they're part of life,
whose fingers dances on the white keys
Like it was a bridging gap,
whose wrists do not touch,
because music is delicate.

And what do I think of you?
I ask over and over again.

Honestly, what do I think of you?
The person, who, I'm afraid to lose
Because you were the one
Who gave me something to hold on to.
The person I dream of
Every moment of the day, and every second of the night,
The person I've been longing for all my life
The person I wish to hold in my arms
Like today is the last.

And you ask me again,
"What do you think of me?"
I could say many possible words,
But I could only stare and,
Smile, making my eyes wrinkle,
And mutter,
"I think you're great. She's lucky."
She really is.