He drew her, gave her life and grace,
She longed for more, his time and place.
"Make me your wife," she softly pled,
He was shocked, shaking his head.
"How could you be my lover,
When I could erase you and start over?"
She smiled and whispered, "that's true,
But doing that, would still hurt you."
"If you didn't love me, why give me eyes?
Why sketch the stars and velvet skies?"
I may be a drawing of ink and trace,
But I'm the dust, you can't erase."