we donned our aprons
I scraped back my hair
you tightened the drawstrings
we stood together, to stare

the glossy oak block
of what could be
and you and I, with our chisels
an aim to complete

at first we did trace, hand holding hand
pencil strokes start small, then sweeping
and you took my waist to steady my stand
and we shared our first scratch, both weeping

after this first mark
had struck the smooth wood
can this be? we thought
we knew, it could

and we stood apart and looked
and readied our stance
lips smiling, hearts reaching
and we flew into dance

scribbled did the wood become
its grain chiselled beyond belief
not yet finished, much more to come
and with each stroke we felt relief

this ballet shall continue
your body on my frame
your mind sharing mine
the other's heart we both claim

our masterpiece gets drawn
slowly across the years
but it feels fast, like seconds
and we hammer without fears

we slip into one from the dance
you the concrete, I the brace
our aim for artwork has set a trance
but I break to see your face

let's not whirlwind through our masterpiece
lets take this time to contemplate
the whirlwind may take time to come again
but with you I will wait