Made with fading ink, she was so delicate she
Played upon the page, ink was all I could see
Pretty delicate lines  were etched but there was
Pity in these fragile lines I etched then paused.

I was falling in love with this woman on a page,
Cry as I might she was locked in a pencilled cage
So many imprints were erased redrawn within her
Flow she was all beauty became a confused blur.

Fingers shook not wanting to ruin this moment, it
Lingers in my heart, this picture I do wishfully knit.
Above I hover of her features, but she is static, still
Doves are etched on my heart but are silently fanatic.

Not able to lift a pencil she has captivated me I am
Fraught with delusions of love inanimate, I am her lamb.
Caught in her smuggled eyes where tears have descended
Thought is my savours as I realise and erase her it is ended.