A mid summer nights dream
Giving her the first lick of your ice cream?
Hand written prose
Letting her choose the music on the radio?
Roses spread out on the bed
Sleeping on the edge because she’s too outspread?
Who’s to say one form is better than the other.
Of what use is Shakespearian prose if the loved hasn’t the requisite language? The act of thinking of them before yourself is chivalrous and more endearing.
Of what use is poetry if she cannot sing it’s tune or repeat it’s verse by memory? The medium is far more important.
Of what use are ornamental flowers if she cannot smell the fragrance of your caring soul? Flowers die, your soul is forever!
Then again, who’s to say what’s right or wrong, what’s better or worse?
We get so caught up with the fantasies of love, we forget to notice the smaller things which in actual true definition of the word, are more intimate than the grand gestures which can be rehearsed.
Don’t forget to be humble so you can notice the subtlety in love. It’s not all rainbows and waterfalls.