Were I to sit so singly willed to write of you, my love the quill I would find myself utterly unskilled at etching the strength of your will
Were I to sing, songs of praise of your stunning self, so vividly ablaze yet concealed so well, all in a haze I would sing myself hoarse, making my case
Were I ever to try, and measure your heart the depths of the love that I call mine own I would find the universe, eternal and stark nestled deep within, whispering to my soul calling me along, to worlds unknown.
Love is not for the faint-hearted, so tread wisely.