If people were like books, I think that you
Would be among the best. Not ****** life,
But instead loving like sweet honeydew.
Your brown coffee stains, ripped pages, and strife
Give you attraction; black letters give depth.
Your cover is deep brown freckle covered --
Not strained stripped blond, but color wide of breadth.
Your words are full of thoughts rediscovered,
Once old, now part of a new kind of youth.
My minds palate savours each of your words,
Every one full of grace and Christ and couth:
The sounds they make from a beautiful bird.

I am the sieve and your love is the sand
               and you'll try, oh you'll succeed,
To fill me with many deserts by your hand.