Her avatar is a cause célèbre,
in life a beauty to be seen,
but my anxious heart intercedes,
this image is my queen.
The words she writes may only seem,
smoothly flowing poetic lines,
yet in each line and each word I sense,
her tender heart still shines.
In her daily strife, she sometimes stumbles,
it is her one beau geste,
I am there, to pick her up, to feel her pain,
to hold her to my chest.
When she is happy, when she has joy,
it is our dolce vita,
I feel her passion, I hold her love,
our toast, our aqua vitae.
Sometimes we drink, not too much,
secrets revealed by sauce,
but our love is solid, our passion firm
it is our “in vino veritas”.
Then late at night, in my arms she lies,
she moans "mijn zon" in her dreams,
I am her Sun, she is my Moon.
Her name is what it seems.