To what man can I describe your beauty? Has not those of old in memories you hold seen such array of an intricate being interwoven to such splendor? Yet they were cast aside by times and never anchored or so wanted to keep you as so. Lest I stand on shore and dare not embrace your call as I see your riveting light. And though they say to be with a poet you will be basked in words but let my actions bring just reward. For though I hold you and trace thoughts, emotions of yesterday’s and today’s, I plan to walk til tomorrow. Know me not as a standard cast in lots but as a man speaking words of honesty. For you are not my muse but music and you now surround the area. You are beauty for you are art and I try to understand your complexities, curves, textures and show you my own. You are my beautiful.