In his sketchbook
I find, so many empty pages
That I wish time would fill
Or perhaps I could
Do it for him
So even when i'm not by his side
He could feel the warmth
Of every letter that I scribble
Across the pages that are left untouched.
I wish to be music to his ears,
The voice of his soul,
The hand that fits the spaces between his fingers.
Take away every element of emptiness,
Loneliness that lies within him-
And fill it all with a love so pure,
Purer than the smile I have,
Purer than the eyes I have...