love, what would you say
is the color of laughter
the scent of sweet hope
the sound of deepest green
thoughts become verdant
and fertile and clear and
christened true by your
most empathic touch, dear
rivers sing polished stones
of time heartfully humbled
by the much vitalizing voice
of you so undiminished
while I climbing cling as bark
to the flesh of you rising
earth enchanted fibrous
and feral yet wisely oaken
striving soulful for heights
that I most numbly naïve
could not dare to conceive
yet the barest existence of
whisper-bless these hands
please, grasping at oily colors
capturing a likeness of you
on roughly textured paper
yet knowing, ever assured
that the finest truth of you
can no similitude enthrall
being all in every moment
could I but endeavor being
clever and capaciously old
a monument to your eyes
in ebony marble to construct
then surely would enchanted
the sun itself its sphere depart
and dipping delighted down
genuflect before beloved you
George Ellington 