He typed a poem with one finger to his Love. He was the least likely man to write a love poem, or so she thought. He was not even a poet. She was the poet. She was the song writer. She wrote gorgeous love songs that could make you weep.
His poem was about love and being safe in his arms. It was in response to one of her lovely love songs that he had heard her sing once. He was an old flame, that she thought had been put out. Actually he had extinguished the flame himself. She never dreamed that it would be rekindled. Not ever as she had been that hurt.
It was many years later when she took up writing songs again. It had always been one of her passions, but it had been a terribly long time since she had written. She was inspired to churn out song after song after song. Most were about love and longing, haunting and beautiful.
It was so much quicker to type the songs out on her computer’s keyboard than writing with an ink pen. She had always liked the feel of the pen in her fingers, the ink flowing smoothly against the paper as she lovingly wrote. Still, the words in her head came so fast that it was easier to capture them with the keyboard. Capture the words quickly, before they got away.
She would sometimes hear a melody in her head as the words were forming. By the time the piece was finished, she would be singing the song. Sometimes she dreamed the words and the music. Sometimes she was lucky enough to remember those dreams and write them. These were usually the best songs. The songs that she did not have to try hard to write. The words just came to her and came out when she wrote or typed them.
He had been quite an inspiration for many of her love songs. They were hauntingly yearning, speaking of love so intense that you would cry to try to explain it. The yearning was for that love that you had never experienced, but knew was possible. The yearning was also for the love that you had and never could get enough of and later for the loss of that same love. The loss of that love that you would always miss and would never forget. The yearning for that feeling. For that feeling of coming home. For the safety of that love that enfolds you and captures your every breath and heartbeat. The very stuff that love songs were and are made of.
Yes, as years went by, and as her love with him began re-igniting ,she was more inspired than she had ever been before in her life. The love songs flowed in a silky effortless manner. She was so moved with emotion that she cried as she wrote. Her tears would flow and seemed to be tinged with pink as the love spilled out.
Who says that love has no color? Who says that you cannot describe love? The indescribable is actually described in these love songs she writes. The indescribable is also described by the vision of a man with a woodsy look and feel about him. A man with silvery hair and beard. A man with those intense eyes that she loves to fall into. A man with hands too large and awkward to be comfortable on a keyboard. The vision of that man typing a love poem from his heart to his love with one finger.