I wrote you a thousand times, he told her by the stone hearth.
The flames reflected in her eyes, matching her red mane. The warm tones of the fire colored the whole room, covering the discreet blushing of her cheeks.
I don’t have the eye of a painter, I don’t have the hand of a sculptor… But I gave my best words to portray you in all your shades… I wrote you fierce, I wrote you tender… Flirteous… Chaste… Flamboyant… Guarded… Unreachable… and mine.
She tilted her head back, offering her neck gracefully… The ultimate pay to the artist’s folly.