#deaulivery

To be (with) you, That is my task.

To be (in love with) you, That is what I ask.

To beyoutesc, To be right there on your desk, That's what I'm asking. That desk is your heart...

I knock. What does your smile say?

I knock again. Do you accept my words To break through my smile And speak to you    instead of smiling at you?

To be'n'your'tease, Or even think about it, That is not an option for me, Because it's not only about beauty, It is about the inner treaty, To which I'm gladly subscribed!

 To thou, as in, on the love

 (title mimicking the very words of the year: Two Thousand and Twelve)

    To thou, 

    as in, 

    On the Love,

I lend a little from my hub.

  A thought,

      A share,

To you,

The Allotted Care,

More than a dew drop on a leaf,

Much alike a deauctatental* glyph,

Just a spot of inspiration rained down softly

                                   on a stacked up sheaf...

  ... of anything... to anywhere... of any layer.

  Now, let's place more care...

    To thou,

As scent would have to halve

 the particles of dedication,

I place a tad of class.

  I know,

I say, I realize,

That everything is to be devised,

Prior to be expedited as an advice,

And before the inks have weighed in,

Thus, as the step by step distinction applies the splice,

Make sure confidence is plied within.

  To thou,

A sand sent for the weaving,

I grant a little of my land.

  It doesn't have to be sophistication,

Just a dash of communication

All for you,

Splash of pacification!

    To thou,

A sound hand to the shelves,

I extend my written contribution.

  You bring your needs,

And I suggest to them.

You voice your concerns,

And I write to them.

You cry out your worries,

And I serenade to them.

  You let a tab in asking "But, what's been?",

And I, on a tablet, bring up

 while bringing it down a notch... "It's been."

    I give into your care

 the life, its trends, its heels,

Yet I will still hold on

 to the love, its look and feel.

  I place into your trust

 my heart, its beat, its passion,

And I ask of you to place

 your heart, its heat, its promise.

  I place upon your lips

 the words that kiss,

 and not the ones that bite.

  To thou,

    as in,

    On the Love,

I am a table-offering to the chairs of your thought.

  ©DD, 2011-2012