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You are the book:
I've tried so hard to open,
though my fingers kept slipping
on your beautiful cover.

You are the poem:
I've tried so hard to write,
though every time I got too close
I gave up on imperfections.

You are the song:
That's played along in silence
through every phase of my life,
I heard it loud and clear.

You are the book, the poem, the song,
The one purpose for my chest
to rise and fall.

You are the book:
I turned pages in earnest,
A desire to read, to know,
To love every word.

You are the poem:
I found written in the snow,
Foreign to pen for its honesty,
And endearing in mistakes.

You are the song:
I heard my heart humming,
The first night I surrendered
My outcome to the fates...

To you-