Fingers softly caressed her neck,
Gently composing a song of love.
A new note rang with each small peck,
To send their song to the heavens above.
A tune for two, this song was theirs,
Only they knew how to sing its key.
"You are mine" to her, he declares,
"I am yours" she says to me.
This song we wrote, it is sincere,
A new verse is written everyday.
I'll take her waist and draw her near,
So again tonight we can play.
Tomorrow we rest, our song unsung,
The strings of our lives, still being strung.
-adam ward
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