A Borrowed Rhyme...

Unlike the stars that wink,
And the eyes that blink,
Unlike branches that swing and sway;
Unlike the hooves'clink,
And the flow of this ink,
Unlike kisses the sun blows in each ray,
I don't teeter on that brink,
From which, you have led me away.

Unlike the song of the bird,
And syllables in a word,
Unlike rituals through which we pray;
Unlike clouds gazing in a herd,
Vows affirmed and averred,
Unlike the clock faces I see each day,
I don't fear that I'll be wayward,
With you, I drift, but not to disobey. 

I no longer rock in the arms of time,
Tug at the past, reach for the morrow;
With you, it does all seem sublime,
Not straining to be the same or to grow.
With you, I yen to pen each rhyme,
That from our silent poetry I may borrow;
Thoughts that we say or we mime,
Playfully iterating what we already know.