If you were a penny, I’d keep you in my front pocket every day.
I’d shine and cleanse you daily, washing all troubles and woes away.
If you were a diamond ring, on my finger is where you’d stay.
I’d shine the stone feverishly, parting all frets and worries astray.
If you were a novel, I’d place you at the very front of the shelf,
I’d tear out the pages of misery, and swallow the depression myself.
If you were as free as a butterfly, I’d cup you within my hands.
I’d whisper all my secrets, then release you from all commands.
If you were a painting, I’d pose you directly over so all could see,
I’d dust away the tears and guilt, inhaling the particles inside of me.
If you were a bronze statue, I would polish you until you shined.
I’d scour away the torment, and any melancholy I should find.
If you were a flower, I’d pluck the petals of bane from your life,
I’d water and feed you frequently, nourishing the roots of strife.
If you were an eagle, I’d admire your rare beauty from above,
I’d watch you slowly soar into the horizon, taking with you,
my heart, my soul and love.