You read my open book,
and did not reject it’s pages,
you embraced the ink, the smudges,
along with the exclamation points,
rough sentences, and handsome metaphors,
always hoping the love story would never end.
You became my poetry, my muse,
never hidden, filling me with wonder,
giving my mouth and pen the words,
so we can both live, beyond the stars,
in the greatest of all stories.
Shared today celebrating previous work.
Originally posted October 2015
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
“When we love people, we give them hope.”