Love is like an artist’s painting, where precious paint and canvas mould,
an explosion of colourful sensations, to the world our story must be told.
Critics will never see past the pastel, to them our love seems like folklore,
yet I appreciate what is behind your beauty, for few can see much more.
A real life artist chose two pigments, to blend a new colour that we adore,
sweet brush strokes swept me off my feet, and left me lying on life’s floor.
Your portrait teases my every emotion, from the moment my eyes met yours,
like a painter’s cloud upon a landscape, it forms a silver lining when it pours.
Our first moment captured so perfectly, a precious union for you and I;
our love hangs like a master’s classic, beautifully framed with clear blue sky.
I try to verbalise your loveliness, before our picture begins to fade,
well aware all fine art matures, like anything created or was made.
Finally you command the canvas, and in the foreground you will stay,
all I ask, is that I am your picture frame, so that I can hug you every day.