The magic of reflected love
The art we make,
It’s real not fake,
Not ever imagination.
Never created for a lens,
No cash changing hands,
True love’s divine resurrection.
Forever, our souls,
These poems have told,
What our true meaning is.
Here, in heart’s support,
In concert, our rapport.
Until the next time we can kiss.
I’ve drawn you,
Each stroke I thought “I’m lucky this is mine”.
Tracing your form,
Stopping to stare at your perfect lines.
My art a mere copy of what this world gave in you.
My work never giving justice no matter how I do.
I’ve drawn you,
I think to have you here in my hands.
Tracing your perfect form,
Wishing life into my creation as each stroke expands.
Our love runs deep through skin to heart,
It’s permanent and will never depart.
It can’t wash away no matter the storm,
It will endure and grow as sworn.
The words we exchange their meaning sure,
The sentiment conveyed, real, pure.
Our love runs deep, our creation marked,
Our love runs deep, together forever never apart.
I look at those legs,
Those loooong long legs.
They make me kneel,
Make me beg.
Let me part,
Let me inside,
Wrap them around me,
As we fly.
I look at those legs,
They’re just the start.
To beauty in flesh,
Personified art.