she ruffles thru' the written rows, line by line, she sifts thru' prose intent on catching with her knows (nose), the timeless scents of dainty rose
her eyes affixed to gems in ink, the precious words adeptly linked by (her) lover's mind that ever thinks of her thru' night without sleep's wink
in penned down verse she does find peace amidst the words of (her) lover's piece she is the muse that brings him bliss, and with these words he sends his kiss
"Why don't you be the artist, and make me out of clay?... Why don't you be the writer, and decide the words I'll say?... " - Ellie Goulding
I hope you enjoy(ed)!... βΊοΈ
may LπVE, LπΉFE, and LπGHT always be with you... π₯°