How can I write you anything, my love?
How can I write your smile in fourteen lines?
A hundred thousand lines are not enough,
much less to write the splendor of your mind.
How can I write the way I felt today,
when I awoke before the morning sun,
and in the bedside lamplight, there you lay,
smiling, watching me sleep, nursing our son?
How can I write the way your hair appeared,
red in the lamplight, fallen on the bed?
Or how your voice fell softly on my ears
like angels singing everything you said?
How can I write a sonnet true enough
for even one true moment of my love?