I wake to the thought of you every morning.
Your mural etched by the sun,
Far too beautiful to ignore.
Those lines of simple, perfection always trailing
Off until it fades into, the soft sound of your voice.
But, none of this compares to the days when
You grow silent trying to find
The words to something you’re afraid
To let escape.

Your beauty lies behind the fact
You are not quite perfect
With a single, shallow flaw
That only we will ever share.
Everyday I watch for this
Reflection of myself.
This tiny, fragile, fracture
That always shows so clear.
Can you feel it on the quills,
Drawing our lips nearer?
Strumming through the reeds,
To guide our every whisper.
Upon ourselves there will
Always live a seam.
The fear that all we’ve gained
Is but a dream.

Your voice travels through the winds of concerting.
This melodious touch of yours,
Brings serenity to all it knows.
The warmth and grace of this entwining feeling
Faring with a breath into an embrace
All of our own.
But, none of this compares to the days when
You reach out for me but quickly
Pull away before you believe
That I’ve seen.

Your beauty lies behind the fact
You are not quite perfect
With a single, shallow flaw
That only we will ever share.
Everyday I watch for this
Reflection of myself.
This tiny, fragile, fracture
That always shows so clear.
Can you feel it on the quills,
Drawing our lips nearer?
Strumming through the reeds,
To guide our every whisper.
Upon ourselves there will
Always live a seam.
The fear that all we’ve gained
Is but a dream.

None of this compares to the days when
You do the best you could ever do
While peering into me and saying,
I love you.