There is a long blonde in my life 
And someday she’s going to be my wife 
I see this as through a prism reflected 
And the woman I have selected 
To be my opposite other 
To hold my child as their mother 
And I know I’m just a man 
And I’m not sure if I can 
Hold the frame of light so the sun lands 
Upon her golden locks as we hold hands 
And she’s precious and insecure and pure 
And if I could intercede I would for sure 
Because I just want to own what she is 
But I look up and she is his 
As he walks in his grey old battered world 
Thinking that she is his girl 
And I see her stare across the room 
When we communicate on zoom 
Before it was real 
A kind of portal and the ideal 
Is cut like a pane of glass
Or a diamond in all the right places
Would you accept this ring if its faces 
Could turn unto the light 
Could we talk instead of fight? 

Not sure how this poem will land – just something new that I’m trying!