[Askoga]: 89.Poetry.His Smile

Note from the author: I redid this poem. I hope it's better now!

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His smile blooms,
Blossoms, and grows.
And the pretty rose
That blooms so fair
Is a smile warm
That means no harm.

His laugh so full,
Like rich, moist loam
Where only smiles bloom,
That it lifts you up
And inhibits the growth
Of doubts and fears, both.

His eyes they shine
And shimmer in the light
As he smiles so bright
That you can see the world
As you never saw before
Full of joy, and yet more.

And when he smiles
That smile so clear
Nothing else is so dear
As making him smile
Just once, or twice,
Or maybe—maybe thrice.

That smile, that laugh,
All are just for you
This, you know, is true!
Though it's also right
That he laughs and smiles
Same for all, for miles.

But the morning dew
That's his smile so clear
Beckons you to come near,
And makes you wish
That you could smile
Such a glorious smile.