in time they are linked
He is a slinger of syllables
a turner of phrase
with bouquets of words
he denies her no praise
He is her epigramman
Her heart is his canvas
and he paints it with love
his lips are his brush
he shivers a body he knows not of
He is her epigramman
They touch with a screen
clicking passionate page
nothing can stop them
not time.......not distance.......not age
He is her epigramman
Lip spun, and finger sewn
on this web of love
different grounds lay beneath them
but the same moon above
He is her epigramman
Different styles and settings
but this is the same
that no matter how different
the writing remains
He is her epigramman
If nothing else
in time they are linked
with the sheer love of word
and the passion for ink
He is her epigramman
With technology's shove
they are pen pals of old
reading each other
in italic and bold
He is her epigramman
Funny and beautiful
his words simply move her
each of his new ones
could not be read sooner
He is her epigramman
So by the lake
or the basement so dark
with every word written
each leaves their mark
He is her epigramman
Spinning short tales
of clever and rhyme
she begs he keep writing
until stoppage of time
He is her epigramman
Written in complete friendship, love, admiration, and affection- The pink umbrella