You’re my allegory, spark, the map where daylight learns to run,
A living metaphor, you turn dusk into a sun.
Your coffee is metonymy of wit, a warm, precise decree,
A razor of thought, sharp-minded, keen as morning’s key.
A sweet paradox: your faults fold into my gold,
You’re personification, laughter wearing soul.

We’re the antithesis, order and chaos in one frame,
A tidy drawer of spoons, then I swap them just for game.
That tiny joke flips your atlas, your scheme goes upside down,
Chaos smiles like confetti; order bows and leaves the crown.

You’re my little shvirik, my sunrise sound,
The poetry that spins my thoughts around.
You’re rhythm where meanings meet,
My verse begins beneath your beat.

You’re synecdoche, the piece that makes the whole belong,
A polysyndeton of kisses, and, and, and we’re strong.
My apostrophe, I call you into every dawn,
A hyperbaton of truth: with you I’m never gone.

So stay, my metaphor, my compass and my word,
Together, an allegory that hushes what’s absurd.
My little shvirik, sing loud the quiet we unfurl:
Together we’ll cover the noise of the world.

You’re my little shvirik, my sunrise sound,
You’re my little shvirik, my sunrise sound,