her poem

i am sooo inspired, that i wrote a poem for her. it's about a poet who laments how he could not adequately dedicate his lady's beauty if even he was a accomplished painter, or a singer, or a sculptor. the poem still needs work, though, but here's how the final stanza goes:

would a painter, in all his depths
of tints and strokes and shades-
or else, an artiste, aloft with melodies
that to lover's heartstrings reverberates-
not even the artful sculptor, to her image,
could hold such beauty's shape and sway:
i am but a poet, with yet unworthy words -
and these are my colors - my song - my clay.

please do not, do not, do not email me about how tacky/cheesy/pathetic it is. girls don't fall for poems, i know... *sigh*