Your Song Poem by Iohannes Silvaticus

This is your song.
Do not come to think
That I may write it for you
With my lush poetry
Praising the mirrors of
Your great still eyes,
Fires of your figure,
And lyrics of your voice.

This is your song,
Not mine. Not for me
To fill. With odes to you,
Your frame, your being,
Your mind, your eyes.
With verses of laments
Of why you aren't here now
For me to see what you can write.

This is your song,
It is not for me to write.
Not for my lines and rhymes.
But now without intent, here,
It is written and done for.
You have become my right hand.
Now that it is written,
Sing it in your voice.