I am the ‘tin man’

in the deep distance

of her faraway eyes

sweet letters, then words,

then phrases arise

 

secret expressions

revealed from within

unknown to the woman

they may someday win

 

I, a mere scribe,

record every line

composing their form

in these verses of mine

 

each poem an essay

on gifts from above

to beauty, to charm

and most of all, love

 

but I am no poet

this ‘Tin Man’ you see

for it’s her heart you hear

that beats within me

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