I wish I was an artist

And with pencils held aloft, 

I would draw your beautiful contours.

A painter perhaps, 

Palette and brush at hand

And I would paint your lovely smile on a broad canvas. 

Better still, a sculptor-

Knife and wood, 

Clay and stones… 

And I would carve your shape with a mahogany. 


I am none

And I suck at all. 


I’ll just immortalise your modest looks

And amazing body

With a flurry of descriptives. 

It would be the pinnacle of grace

To be able to write out lines and stanzas

In your honour

While subconsciously picturing your being. 

That’s my holy grail, 

That’s all I want to do

With every little word in my head

And all I can muster. 

You’ll make a singer out of me yet… 


4 thoughts on “Orente

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