With my head bowed, I set to paper, pen
And set, as well, my thoughts to organize
I find my writing turns to you again
Though subtle misdirection my hand tries.
In written word, I canonize your beauty
When I try to write of seasons fair
Silk and spice I ponder with grim duty
My hand betrays me, writing of your silken hair
I conjure orchids and cerulean skies
Such thoughts take wing like birds that wheel above
Helplessly, my verse extols your sweet cerulean eyes
And the warmth and purity of your love.
---When I write words that from my heart are true,
---The only thing worth writing of is you.
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1 comment:
so sweet(and sad)
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