Oh woe were I a painter, impressionist in craft
Painting pictures in emotion, instead of photograph
Because there is no color, no brush-stroke I could sweep
That could capture her, or the wonder that she keeps.

The sun beating down on my face,
The gentle, warm breeze.
The smell of green plant life,
the stench of fresh mulch.
The cooling drizzle of summer rain,
the essence of wet concrete.

This is what I missed.

I am the sun and you are the sea
I'm drawn without warning
To the reflection of me

I shine over you for all of my days
Watching you, yearning
For your affectionate gaze

But your depths are too distant,
You are too dark and cold
My warmth cannot reach you
No matter how bold

I am trapped on your surface
You hold me tight to your waves
I try to escape you
But my walls simply cave

And so still I rise every morning
And look down at your shore
You're a beautiful sight
But I wish for much more

I wish you could have loved me then
Before our time was through
Before you found another me
And I another you

How do you do it?
You paralyze me
You stop me from moving
So passionately

Do you think it's coincidence
That my eyes fix on yours
No matter the distance
I fall for your lures

Is this all written down
In a script I've not read
Is there something I'm missing
That just exists in my head?

Perhaps it's all me, and not very much you
Do you know what I'm saying?
Or do you feel it too?