I am the centre of her universe, I am the sun that warms her day,
I am the love that fills her heart, but I have feet of clay.
In her eyes I can do no wrong, no matter what I do or say
I watch the tears well in her eyes when I have to go away.
I take her gently in my arms and dry those eyes so she can see
In my heart I know that I've been blessed, for she believes in me.
She watches me with those soft brown eyes, attentive and alert
With an unassuming tenderness that I've no wish to hurt.
I'm placed upon a pedestal that she has created in her mind
Because she fell in love with words, of the poetic kind.
Words I'd written in my youth of love and ecstasy.
Words she believes in to this day, for she believes in me.
Yet I'm no Casanova, no Don Juan sent to fill her dreams
It's only that the words I write make life better than it seems.
Her love is for the fantasy that my poetic words create
The rhythm fills her heart with love, it is the Bard who is her mate.
Beyond the Bard is the frail man as one day she will see
But until that day I'll enjoy her love, for she believes in me.
Meanwhile we'll share together the time
of our allotted span
Perhaps one day the veil will lift and she will love the man.
The Bard is but a facet, a small part of what is me,
This she will discover if only those warm brown eyes could see
Beyond the pulsing rhythms of the Bard's anthology.
It's the man that really loves her, because she believes in me.