of her skin and sculpt
it on a stone.
To witness the fire
in her eyes and burn
the canvas with paint.
Once I glanced into
her heart and the
way my guitar cried-
the lullabies born
cleansed my soul
a thousand times.
It took a lot of patience
and impulsive spurts
to understand her.
The storms I hurled
were calmed with her
smile and the silence
I hid was nursed with
a satin touch that
wreaked walls.
Her contradictions
are acts of love and
my unguarded heart
is a refugee in hers-
to witness a new
tomorrow every day
like it's my birth right.