My voice would never be like radio,
entertaining and eloquent fluff.
I couldn’t capture ears with a tune you know,
or tell you all I need is your love.

I knocked walls down like your new favorite podcast.
When you listened, you were first unsure.
But I showed my whole hand so we might withstand
a love in which both parties could learn.

We spun tales like the television sweeps.
Seen the moods swing to rage then repent.
There were years I could not see beyond me,
but relied on the chalk white picket fence. 

We grew old like they do in the movies,
ageless and with the meaning of life.
Sweetly air-brushed beyond words for the weeds
that they welcomed us silently that first night.