She'll be no musician
She won't make melodies through violin and guitar strings
Yet she'll compose haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric betwixt my heart
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony
She'll be no seamstress
Yet she'll cut and trace
plain words and printed phrases;
Then she'll sew and weave it skilfully
into a lovely concrete poetry, melting my soul as i die happily
She'll be no painter
She'll just have a palette of pigmented letters
splashing colorful lines on her blank canvass
A blast of contained evocative memories and illusions
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery into and throughout my head
She’ll be no storyteller
Yet from her I'll hear the most romantic tales
One, of the moon and its lover; The sea
How they reciprocate shy glances and exchange whispers of "I love you" while kissing behind the sprawling mountains
How they do not fear the dawn of day
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage
The lovers be once again reunited
She'll be no poet
Yet she'll write
stanzas and verses
And oh! it'll revive
every strand of emotion
every sense of intuition
Inside me
A lyrical perception
Sheer perfection
Arousing perpetual reactions
From within me
She'll be everything I can put in ink
And more
But most of all
She could be you
If fate deems it true
