A Secret Romance, begging to be told.
The pages are ready, to finally unfold.
Bindings and title, all printed in gold.
The spine on the back, delicately rolled.

The chapters unfinished, begging to be read,
Are left to be finished, by what is unsaid.
Only to begin, when it is finally said.
And the questions within, have finally been fed.

And nothing you write, can ever be wrong,
If you fill in each page, when the time comes along.
The words are the notes, the book is the song.
The melody is set, and it's time to be sung.

A Secret Romance, begging to be told,
The pages are ready, hoping to unfold.
Two names on the front, are printed in gold.
You're one of two authors, of the book that you hold..
 
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