9 is like something uncompleted, but with a tinge of very special.
If God multiplied Himself, there would be 9 of Him.
It could have taken 9 wise men to avoid Herod's whim
And those 3 little pigs if nine were quite the team.
9 is like something still being perfected, but already very Godlike
Like the 9 lives of a cat, which signifies eternity
Or my will for the whole nine yards with you with me
Or me on cloud nine at your breath forming "sweety"
9 melts the soul, mends the heart, and lifts the mind to new
Planes like you, always dressed to the nines,
Or me caught for nine years like wheel and spline
In the magic of your curves, thoughts and mind.
My golden adorned finger still sings the joys of December,
And memories flutter around my mind like butterflies amber
Probing the nectar from a pollen filled field, smiling as they taste
The joys of being you, and near you. 13 years seems like the haste
Of a boy to the Christmas tree, but it's not toy-time yet,
It's just a celebration of you and me, when hearts met
Lips formed forever, and hands sealed like cymbals
And the Seraphins played along as 9 years are just a symbol
To hold firm the objective in a beautiful God-wrought gimbal.