I wanted to paint you a picture, but there was no colors vivid enough to bring to life how brilliant my soul is when I see you smile.
I wanted to dedicate a song to you, But I have not yet heard a voice strong enough to lift my love and carry it gently to your ears, no music sweet enough to show you how my heart dances with a simple touch of your hand.
I wanted to write you a poem, but even the bards loquatious toungue falls silent, speachless by the he flood of emotion that roars withink my breast. Shakespeare, Poe, Bouchard, all bow as amatures to your muse.
I wanted to cook for you, but there was no food as nuritiong to my life as the sustinance that comes from your lips in every kiss, your lips pressed softly against mine.
I wanted to caress you, but I am afraid that you may know through trembling fingertips how vulnerable I am in your presence. that I am as fragile as the dust that dances on the sunlight at dawn.
You are my dream. Everything that is wonderful and magical and fantastic that lives inside me. You bring from me all my passsions and all my fears rolled into one and mold then as easily as a sculpter does clay, creating me new and beautiful each day.
I love you Karin, you are my godess, and I kneal unwavering at you feet and worship you as such, my love, my all