If love were all about
Silver moons,crystal seas,
Words whispered in roundabout
Heart wrenching pleas;
Perhaps I'd be a writer
Of greater eloquence and grace.
I would capture,with dignity,the finer
Aspects of a torrid lovers' embrace.
Since love isn't imagination's ward;
I am constrained in articulation.
Thus I must be content with the menial reward
Of yesterday's cerebration.
Perhaps a distant thought
Would suffice to carry forth with ease
A hard earned sentiment wrought
From the depths of human expertise.