Anything
Tender graceful butterfly
Gentle little dove
This poem that I'm writing
Is all about my love
That's kept hidden inside me
Just longing to come out
But knows it has to stay there
No shadow of a doubt
But if one day the sun shines
And warms this little seed
Permitting it to flourish
No longer would I need
To write them out in longhand
These things I keep inside
Would be a living poem
Each word and thought applied
And showered thus upon you
The passion of romance
The simple act of holding hands
Or learning how to dance
Of writing songs together
And laughing when I sing
But through it all our love grows
And for that, anything
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