Tender fingers crossed over your own,
No distance or object can make unbound.
Eyes that search through your very soul
Accepting all that makes you whole.
No fire can burn so bold,
As that of her heart of gold.
When she grieves,
You never want to leave.
She is the one you carry close,
And the one who knows.
The darkness of your heart,
Embattled with the bright of your art,
Finding no rest for your mind,
And not a sliver of peace to find.
With her you find solice,
In that your sails fill,
And your hands without malice,
They find time to put to the quill.