Your picture which I hold in my hand
By itself it could never stand
For in dimensions, it does lack
The third and foremost of the pack
It will not kiss me on demand
It can not love me with a gentle hand
And warmth it never can imbue
To this poor soul who years for you
Torture me no more my sweet
Pictures can't such passions treat
And if they burn as mine do now
They need to be relieved somehow
Thus, to this truth I do adhere
That only you my dear
In three dimensions, can you clear,
This burning which is so severe
So fly to me - do not delay
I can not wait another day
And free me from the torments of
This raging two dimension love