Of sublime and ethereal beautiy,
I chose to compose a piece on you
For 'tis true that thy rare perfection
Make thee lovelier than any piece
Of an artist's devout collection.
Gently gliding from side to side,
The brush kisses the canvas' cheek.
With each stroke, sweet serenity,
Yet no stroke dares to compare
To your charm and tranquility,
Despite the artist's prayers.
Amid such serenity come disaster,
As the brush glides faster and faster.
Darkness falls among the shadows.
With each stroke, misery follows.
Yet you clear that penumbra from view.
Like the sun, your rays of light exude.
Although art is beautiful, I cannot lie.
No art scintillates like the spark in your eyes.
No art articulates such thoughtful words.
No art can adore me, love me undeterred.
No art can envelop me in deep embrace.
No art can ever, ever take your place.
Though not restrained within a frame,
Like paintings on a wall aligned,
The way you never fail to listen
And the way your smile glistens
Will be forever frozen in my mind.
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