a man.

a man looks at his wife and thinks, i want to write harmonies about you. i want to strum the stiff strings of a guitar into submission, into a soft croon of all that makes you, you. i want to make a rhythm like the sound of your heart beat when you tell me you love me. i want to write lyrics floating on the edges of a blue jay's wings, soaring through the sky, eclipsing on the sun. let it emanate, glow, like the sweet taste of dew drops on honeysuckle, savored on the tongue like the raspberries that stain your hand. let them entangle like vines on an old schoolhouse, mystify like fog in the morning. so distinct, like the whorls and swirls of her fingerprints, delicate and beautiful when i hold them in my own. i want the sound to echo like the rumbling thunder of a humid summer storm, make you feel the song in your bones like the distinct chill when you're running running in the rain. i want the words to enrapture you, oh my oh my, like lightning striking you. a man looks at his wife, and thinks. if only, if only i could. for now, i shall hold your hand and tell you i love you. i hope that is enough.