Had I been a painter
I would have drawn your face
With all the seven colors there are
across my autumn sky.
Then I would have lain on my back
With all my indignation,staring above
till the end of my time.
Still it would not have quenched my thirst.
Had I been a sculptor
I would have curved you out of cold stone
With all the warmth of my soul once there was
I would have made you livelier with every stroke
Inch by Inch,with utmost precision..
Then I would have stared at my creation
Imagining a friend made of flesh and of bones.
I am afraid you still would have left me alone.
But I am just a poet
All I can do is Write about you
With all the words that I have ever known
and with all the phrases That I would ever learn
I am not sure how to capture your grace..
Your poise,your smile,your face and your stare.
Someday I shall write the most beautiful poem for you
Still it would not be half as beautiful as you are.