Who wouldn't want a poet to hold,
to call their very own.
A poet to write them words of love,
so known without doubt,
his desire is of and for you,
together, alone.
Who wouldn't want a painter
to create in mastery
the masters piece
yet for you alone
all along
and again.
To give,
to shower,
to show,
to reach,
to hold,
to grow young,
to grow old,
to grow together,
as two make one.
