I wanted to write you a poem
that rivalled Shakespeare
play you a melody that
Beethoven would envy
sketch how I feel about you
with a painting that would
have made Picasso proud
but
I'm not a musician
I'm not an artist
and I'm not a writer.
I'm just simply
little old me.
So even though these
words may be inadequate
never doubt the sincerity
behind them;
or the emotion that
comes with them
or the truth that is
there for all to see.
I can't describe how I feel
about you in a way that
would do my emotions
justice; because every
time I glance your way,
butterflies still dance
within my tummy,
my heart still skips a beat
when you kiss me on the
forehead and my hands
still shake when you wrap
me in your embrace.
