My name is Aleks. This is what I like.
Over the two hundred thousand years people have existed,
One hundred billion of them have lived to roam the Earth.
All of them having some measure of worth,
Though none as precious as your bountiful mirth.
It’s as if the universe created billions of drafts,
In order to craft,
Your transcendent beauty,
that can only be described as you.
For in all the great works of literature and arts,
No metaphor is apt nor analogy fitting.
Nary a simile bears a semblance,
To your remarkable radiance.
The eloquence with which you talk,
And the grace with which you walk,
Are incomparable to the billions that have come before.
The timeless charm you possess,
And the impeccable way you dress,
May often be imitated but never truly replicated.
For if people come and go,
Like footprints in the winter snow,
Then you are that of the snowflake;
A uniquely intricate design soaring above the rest.
Unquestionably, undeniably, unimpeachably, the best.
People use the phrase one in a million,
Which can’t possibly be true.
For there never was one hundred thousand,
As incredibly perfect as you.
Dedicated to, and written for, Emma Watson.
© Copyright Aleks Canard, 2014