He watches as she finishes reading one of his poems.
She smiles as she always does…
but he can feel her sadness too…
“How often I have wished,” she said.
“I could write poetry like you.”
“But I can never find the right words…
words transcendent…
words sublime
and even if I were to find them…
I could never make them rhyme.”
“Ah…but that is what makes us so beautiful”, he smiled
“for wherever we may roam…
I may always be the poet…but you shall forever be the poem.”
“I might pen words that are transcended
words that are sublime…
but you” he said as he kissed her forehead
“you are the reason my words rhyme.”
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