To tell the story of my love for you, I would have to write a book without words...

A book full of white pages,
a book without numbers in its corners...
a book that can speak without ink.

Only you will be able to read and understand my white page love.

I would go out every day and sit under a lost tree next to our silence.
Without ink I would sit there and write to you...
without a word.

The sunset would serve as my dictionary
and memories of you would play music in the background.
"It happened while we weren't looking."
"I'll go with you."
If I wrote something like that somewhere in my book without ink or words, would you write back?

Can a man make a fool of himself writing books without words or ink, laced with irregular white page love?

Words aside ...

The thought of your smile while you browse through my book of white page love -
enough reason to write another page for you tomorrow.