My flower

 My flower
 I want you to know that 
 every day in my own lonely 
 In memory of you I pick my pen up
 To write about you
 On the heart of the white paper, the inks drops 
 And gets black the papers heart 
 Like my days being without you
 Still I don't know what to write 
 Because writing about you, requires art 
 Writing about you requires poetry 
 You have to be illustrated 
 To the prettiest pretty in the universe 
 And alas that I don't have such a art 
 That could be deserve to describe your beauty 
 And how more I think 
 I don't find in the universe 
 Something prettier then you 
 That I can likening you to it
 Not among the stars of the Heaven 
 And not among the the flowers of the garden 
 There is no one prettier then you
 That I can decorate my poem with it 
 And present it to you 
 Yes my flower
 Just I know this 
 Writing about yo
 Requires  me a pen from the feather of angels 
 And a passion from kind of Shakespeare 
 That I can rob the words from Heaven 
 And decorate them 
 To the description of your beauty 
  And again I know 
 That I don't have the art like that 
 Then with a simple language
 Again I write to you 
 I love you my flower