Sonnet for A.A.

An ocean's depth behind her eyes, yet soft, Devouring still, into the soul they pour. Each tender gaze doth raise my pulse aloft: Such beating as the ancient drums of war. Of mind divergent, wonders do abound, Life's codes and patterns as strange as nature knits, And on no spectrum is a label found, As she beyond all category sits. Does she see art in all that's not designed? Enamoured of all, as so of her am I? Seeing art within her eyes, her words, her mind, I strive to glimpse within where secrets lie. No, never shall I truly learn her art, As continents adrift, I stand apart. To understand some of the context in this acrostic sonnet: she's a bit autistic; she's a software engineer; we had conversation about seeing natural beauty as art (which isn't right in my view, as art is designed); shes' 3000 miles away; I'm a bit of an idiot.