I am an imperfect artist,
and this is my canvas.

Your radiant presence leaves me speechless.
I say the words,
just to myself.

The sweet scent of tea lingers on your lips.
I want to taste your essence,
know what you know.

I want to fill my soul with yours,
learn from you, laugh with you.
I want to feel content.

But I can't, for I am an imperfect artist,
and my canvas is not worthy of your portrait.