I have words aplenty
For the colour of your eyes.
They are brown with blue inside
Reminiscent of stormy skies.
I could write forever of your face
My love, but to what avail?
What could that prove to you
Except a love that is all too frail.
Can I write you as the sunlight
As it trickles down my cheek,
In its warm and golden splendor
That often has me weak.
Can you be an ancient oak tree
Sitting forlornly in an old forest,
Never swaying in the summer breeze
Not even winter winds, the coldest.
I want to paint you as the earth and moon
On the back of your own hands,
Simply so when I say that you are my
Whole world, you cannot reprimand.
I would draw you as a far off star,
So cold and left behind.
But my dear I missed the point,
And that would be quite unkind.
I will write you as you truly are,
Until my last and dying day.
I only hope one thing, my love,
And that, is that you will stay.