Deep space is cold, but that won’t bother you…

You are so pink. I’ve
Never met someone so pink.
(It’s a compliment.)

I only found out
You were a local last week.
Sorry about that.

Science can’t explain
(In any equations) your
Gesticulations.

Deep space is cold,
But that won’t bother you: an
Ice ballerina.

All the energy
Of the world is compacted
In your skinny limbs.

Suitcases round here
Are carried by your strong hands.
Chivalry’s not dead!

All thing have a place –
Nice and neat. Except the words
That float on your page.

When I feel homesick,
You talk about country life
And the sadness goes.

When it’s bad weather
And I can hear you singing,
The rain’s like music.

We are the ends of
The spectrum. Opposites, yet
Strangely similar.

An oar in your hand,
You tackle the world head on
While wearing your stash.

Hiding in corners
Of rooms, quiet, some might
Miss your tender glow.

Our hugs are soft and
Comforting. But I want to
Shelter you longer.

A third of a whole,
By birth. But now I am glad
You are a fifth too.