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.