She asked me what I liked the most and put me on the spot;
I said that it would take too long to pick one from the lot.
But when she smiled the die was cast, my choice already made;
There’s magic in her smile that brings the sunlight to the shade.

Don’t get me wrong, I can’t get enough of everything I’ve seen;
I love her nose, I love her toes and all that lies between.
I even love the fashion show that comes before a date,
The way she curls her hair before she has to make it straight.

Her eyes or ears, her legs or arms, no matter what you pick,
They’re off the charts, beyond the top of any measuring stick.
But when a smile breaks into view and dominates her face,
All the rest are relegated to a distant second place.

Some say you count the teeth as the measure of a smile,
Others say only whiteness can be the judge of style.
But I don’t think there’s any gain, cosmetically speaking,
That translates into love or trust or anything I’m seeking.

A smile that makes a joyful leap to welcome my arrival,
A smile that puts the guarantee into love’s survival,
A smile that makes performance art out of my silly wit,
A smile that tells me gently when it’s time for me to quit.

A smile that finds me lost and guides me back to solid ground,
A smile that never questions when my logic isn’t sound.
And if my notes don’t harmonize, my words can find no rhyme,
A smile will smooth the mix and forgive me every time.

I’d rather never pick just one, the rest cast out of favor;
My love of chocolate doesn’t mean I can’t love other flavors.
She forced my hand, so then I said the Cheshire cat she’d be,
So nothing could erase the smile that’s smiling down on me.

© 2016 Jack Thompson

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