to the hand i have the honor to hold,
your touch is the only thing i hope to know
the soft words you whisper to me
are as gentle as a warm summer breeze.
who am i to behold such beauty?
and who are you to be so lovely?
in autumn you wrap me in your coat
for me to be warm, you will be cold
and because of these small acts of love
i will never have written about you enough.
your soul will be immortalized
in all the lines i have rhymed
they will say no such person could exist
but they did not experience your kiss.
even if cruel death should take me away,
in my ill-written rhymes you'll stay.