POEM – On the various ways I could love you
If I were a sculptor
I would carve your face in alabaster
chisel your cheeks in rosy contours -
blush your skin with silken softness
to reveal its rare translucence
and against all resolve
arrest my palm
to find its refuge there…
If I were a painter
I would a canvas be vast enough
to celebrate your beauty,
with every brush stroke
bestow the pain of loving you
in hues of gold and russet,
the blue Indiana sky
the mystic ocean depths
that reflect your soul
and capture a smile, a look,
a tear…
If I were a poet
I would exalt your strength in rare trochee
enshrine your kindness in rhyme royal
and oh! such voice as would the heav'ns declare
my heart and yours can never part
I'd fuse shy couplets' ending rhyme
in ties that bind us to the end of time
If I were a singer
no nightingale could exalt you in chords
such as my voice would give –
I'd sing your praises,
every goodness from within
rising in song ever higher,
I'd offer you the rose of peace
my mandolin weeps my love,
every note a tear…
But none of these I am
I have not the sculptor's hand
or a painter's brush
I am not a weaver of words
nor could my voice in sweetest music
exalt your beauty
I only know that I love you so much
that I would die of it,
that I what I sense
that is what I feel…
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