if i wanted to write you a love story,
would you write with me?
would you caress my hand with yours,
fit my chin perfectly in your palm and push my lips to yours
brushing your lashes against my cheek
If I wanted to paint you a winter’s eve,
would you find a place in an autumn leaf-filled park near an old oak tree gracing the center overlooking the sunset,
take me there and ask me
“where would you like your canvas to be?”
If I were to tell you that I loved you,
that at the mere thought of you
doubt suffocates, worry disintegrates, and joy breaks free…
that if I were greying and wrinkling and the only thing I could do was sit on a park bench surrounded by autumn leaves, staring at an old oak tree reading a love story,
that it was only you who I’d want sitting right beside me…
is “I love you too” what you would say back to me?
could you “would you” with me?