bee-hold

rose garden xiii

But alas, darling, I only know how to write poems about the constellations in the sky, so instead I will write about how I see the brightness of your eyes when I look up at the twinkling lights.

I only know how to make single strokes in paint so instead, I’ll paint the strands of your hair across the canvas, straight from end to end, and hope it turns to a sunrise in shades of yellow, brown, and a tinge of red.

I only know how to sing with the original playing in the back, so if I will sing for you, darling, I will sing if only to hear you laugh; and though I can’t sing without accompaniment, I know enough to sing a complement, the melody to your harmony - while your heart breaks in baritone, my love sings in a high soprano.