I am a thief of the beautiful
I plagiarize from life and love and truth
My words, crude tools and threadbare nets to capture concepts, ideas, ideals, and majesty
No turn of phrase, no matter how fitting, can capture the beauty of a love
An infinite procession of pens stroking the page could only begin to approach such wonders
The smile when you look at me, the caress of your hand upon mine
Each metaphor and comparison crumbles to dust in the presence of the reality of you
Each little perfection and imperfection, blending together into the essence of you
You whom I love
So I am a theft of the beautiful, but all I can steal is a pale shadow
Words cannot even begin to describe how they cannot describe you
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