No I'm no poet
Or a writer
Or a heartless author
Merely some fingers that tremble to create a picture of a waiter
But not in paints
Nor crayons
Nor colours
Nor stitches
Just merely fragments of sentences and thoughts plucked out of not my but your brain
I study you
Read you
Breathe you
Want you
Combining sounds in hopes that it will do your figure justice
Your heart
Your mind
Your soul
Cause mine was lost the moment I met yours