I am not plain, you protested.
And the words remained with me.
The songs I played, the music I heard
The voices, the notes, the verses were all you
– echo of your voice
– facets of your being
And I had this overwhelming desire
To put pen to paper
And sketch you
To immortalize you
I drew the locks…the curls that you so harshly tie up at work.
I drew the smile which illuminates your face.
I drew the willowy tall frames.
But that is as far as I got
The words seeming so facetious.
I was disappointed
And wondered why I can’t play with words any longer.
And then the realizations dawned
And I smiled to myself
Because I remember
Am a silent lover.
A lover of silence.