If I could write you,
   you would be,
  every piece of silver that ever glittered
  in the shadow sea.

  You would be the sandy coves where ships could land,
  and in the bitter winter, the melting crystal within my
   fragile hand.

   In summer you would surpass the rose,
    in fall the autumn gold,
   the rain would fall into your ocean
    your lips,
   the sweetest salt would hold.

   And even silent death could tell,
    for warmth within your cheek would dwell,
   and the color of eternal time
   should always leave its burgundy wine
  

   If I could write just as I see,
   if blackened ink were memory,
  and paper were an ivory field,
  Your face would forever be printed
   and throughout the ages your image sealed.

  All that I hold dear would live,
  forever for all to know,
   then earth would be blessed
   and without sorrow, grow…