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.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC
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.
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