Pencil Sketch

Could I but draw, I'd sketch you day and night.
I'd capture your sweet cheek line as a peach,
the soaring eyebrows as a bird in flight,
the lips a gentle wave upon the beach.

I'd draw your eyes as rainbows through the dark,
your hair as raven feathers, deepest black.
The smile as lightning, blinding with a spark.
A  graceful swan will model for your back.

I'd draw no landscapes and no nature morte,
no flower vases and no setting sun;
no vain cartoons one draws for fun or sport.
I have no need of subjects: I have one.

I cannot draw, but you're on every page.
Still beautiful. Still mine. Still young. I age.