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