Hamid

I wish I was as good with a pencil as I am with a keyboard…I long to draw your face.
The gorgeous perfection of eyes that house the deepest soul.
Your face, for me, is a map – of my life, and of love…the design of my son…of my daughter…of our future. It sketches days gone by and years to come with the smile you offer even in your sleep.
But how can I hope to trace your kiss to paper, the way your lips trace mine in the darkness?
How can I ever pin to the page the beauty of what I see when I watch you sleep, or laugh?
There is no art to capture the sweetness that surrounds you and your heavenly body.
And so, I write…but even these words defy me.
Attempting to define you, I type…backspace…delete…