I am your secret admirer,
I am your devoted scribe.
I draw your radiance through phrases and words,
I am your devoted scribe.
My lion, I shall write you down,
The pack's lovely pride.
Your roars of laughter like soothing songs,
Dear lion, be by my side.
But if by a stroke of misfortune,
You overhear my name
And a tidbit of info
About your newfound written fame,
If this comes to pass,
And you recoil in distaste,
My gentile heart will shatter,
For by my lion, I am betrayed.
But with a crown of thorns,
I still shall be your scribe.
I shall write you roses,
I shall paint you fire.
Even if you were to know
That I watch you from afar,
I'd still give you all the affection
My mere pen could offer.
And on that faded parchment,
Would lay your beautiful soul.
Your eyes as bright as sunlight,
Your laugh as warm as coals.
And if you are a soldier
With a heart as cold as snow,
You'll block out my infatuation
With a mental barrier of stone.
Then I'll have to be the lion
And emerge from my den,
Poetically rambling verse and verse
Of my mnemonic of your Heaven.
As a scribe, I must write what I see,
And like a widow, I'm alone.
So to win your heart and brilliance,
I wrote you down in a poem.
