Are we but a work of art?

They stare at us as if we were just another vintage photograph

Of a boy and a girl walking arm in arm.

But the truth of the matter is

All that they see is two dimensions

Behind the faded, black-and-white image,

Your messy handwriting is the most beautiful calligraphy,

And the quiver in my voice is an aria.

The flowers in my hair are a watercolor painting,

And your arm around me is careful stitchery.

You are the marble statue of a triumphant youth returning from battle,

And I am the maiden of stone awaiting your arrival.

No, we are no more than a work of art,

But we are a fresco, a mural, a symphony,

We are something that not even the most precise camera could capture,

We are the art of adoration.