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…