What if your fingers run into knots
rather than silken routes ?
What if , unlike perfectly trimmed hedges,
those brows are unattended ?
Would you let your lips linger and taste all that she is ?
What if the half moons of dark under her eyes keep you from walking into the shadowy sanctum of her soul ?
What if her songs are not perfectly pitched?
Will you still hold her close enough for your breath and hers to blend into perfect harmony ?