I wrote you a poem,
I wrote you into a poem,
I wrapped your name around every letter,
And engraved my heart upon the title.
I inked your eyes into the bark of a pine,
And your hair I turned into raven’s wings.
Your laugh was the rain cloud-spattered blue sky,
Then I molded your touch into the petals of a rose.
On the points of the brambles that adorned the meadow floor,
I hung your wittiness,
And your mind I carved into the antlers of a stag.
Then when I made night fall upon the pages
Where I wrote the poem that was you,
I made the mystery of the dark your presence,
And let the moonbeams become your smile.
Every star in the sky was made to be a sparkle in your eyes.
I wrote the weather to be as unpredictable as you,
And I rhymed your heart into the deepest recesses of the darkest cave,
Out of sight, out of reach.
I wrote you into a poem,
Where I buried all my unsaid feelings
Below the roots of the largest pine tree,
Beneath the earth that held the verses.