I Could Never Craft Such Beauty.

Sometimes I wonder,

If you even exist,

Or whether you are just a concoction,

Of my manic brain,

In some fever fantasy.

But then you come to me,

With soft words,

And a softer touch,

A certain way of doing things,

With such precise delicacy.

All these things make me sure,

That even I,

Who can twist words,

Shape small things,

And build a world of colour,

Could not manufacture,

Could not make,

No, I could never craft,

Such beauty.