I’d like to paint your picture
but my clumsy fingers would do no justice
to your complexion
Inspiring are those eyes which I
chance upon a gaze
A single finger to which I cannot resist
my heart will twist and tumble beneath it’s burrow
a fall too far to burden, to bear
Lost in imaginations of your coat tails
and coffee stains, your bedside book
and the way you look at me.
The smell of your tongue
and the taste of your ear.
To all this I am wax to a wick.
There are times I long to see what is written
on the other side of the page,
but I have many sentences to take in
before I will understand