“You are the poetry, I am the prose”
He told her. But even the lyricist knows
That prose is just poetry, ordered in rows,
Interested in what it says more than shows
As she is the poetry, you’ll understand,
That all of her words were like roses in hand
While his were a sword. Hers the sweet dancers, and
His the bold soldiers, gone firmly to stand.
A hero needs beauty, wherever he goes
And structure is needed as much for a rose
So, side-long, they’ll watch as the other one grows
She is the poetry, he is the prose.
– s. Clark