Who avoids being reduced to tears?
Whose eyes remain dry in LoveStream’s wake?
Aspiring writers, would-be artists,
we come to You in tears, Creator.
Though defamed, our works (and Yours!) defaced,
we smile, seeing our tears pool with Yours.
All babies’, siblings’, parents’ teardrops
blend on Your watercolor palette.
We dance in Love Story Gallery,
viewing Your Heartbook Parchment paintings.