Maybe you'll never notice.
Because you are fireworks, and I am pale skies.
And you are trumpets and claxons, while I am a single harp string.
And I have shy eyes and quiet hands,
and where you are the chorus and the thunder of waves,
I am only a breeze ruffling the grass in the faint and milky dawn.
I love you
more than you know.
From my new obsession.