Wish I could spin my love into words so fair,
to make your heart float, as if on air;
make it cry in anguish at the gulf between
and fly to me, to charge my dream.
Oh! That I could compose, what a symphony I'd write:
a symphony of colour, cloud and light.
An introduction of uncertain air,
a few bars that hinted at sad despair;
but brighten as the work goes on:
A sudden flourish of trumpets, chorus, song.
A reflective part; which like a stream, trickles down
a mountain all a'gleam,
flicking out fingers in restless probe.
A tune now is drumming through my heart,
the finale though has yet no part.
Though not blessed with the gift of words to write and rhyme,
artists' talent, composers' bent - not mine.
I will show by look and act
and state an irrefutable fact:
"I LOVE YOU".
One day mayhap I'll write that golden line,
even maybe put it down in rhyme.
Perhaps write a finale for my symphony too;
it could be finished with some help from you.
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