The writer.

The writer.

I think I love you, but the words won't come. So, can we go out and have some fun? Then go lay in the sun on the beach and watch the tide come in and go back out. Can I shout out that I love you? You already know I do. That is why I'm never blue; it's because of you. Then we can go home, and I know you like to write, but that's all right. I watch how you write; it's like watching a painter paint. You turn words into things that are beautiful, colorful, and wonderful. You are so thoughtful and faithful. Dedicated to my favorite poet and friend, Gisela.