Seven wonders of the world
yet I trip like the leaning tower of Pisa
when you sing out my name
with a nine minus two, or rather still,
six plus one,
the seventh scale of the seventh chord
you love the most.
What a time to feel this way,
even such is time—
and perchance God did not rest on
the seventh day,
perhaps He spent seven more hours
perfecting your seventieth curve.
But I do not know this story of creation
so well as to whether they were seven days
or they were seven years,
because a woman as you couldn't have been made
in seven rushing minutes, out from seven mortal ribs.
But my darling, I do know what I'll do for you:
I'll cross seven seas,
witness the fall of seven suns,
I'll sing you seven songs
in seven different languages,
seven-seven, double sevens
in sevenfolds, seven seventeens,
count my lives, I've got seven of these
and in each of them I'll choose you,
seven times.
I'll love you like we're in the seventies,
nineteen seventy-one,
seventy-one times seven million ways,
seven discos, seven Star Wars, seven happy days,
you're my seventh of perfections,
my seven muses on seven rainy days,
you are, my love, the seventh wonder
of this wonderful world.
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