To whom do I owe the honor of her love? It is the smell of the earth, carried by the breeze, after the summer rains. It is the wonder at the stars in the clear night sky.
Whom can I repay for the brilliance of her presence? For it is the fire of red that illuminate the clouds as the sun breaks the horizon. It is the warm drink clutched shivering in cold hands.
How deeply indebted am I for the magnificence of her friendship? For it is taste of water when tirelessly working in the scorching heat. It is the laughter which brings you to tears and takes your breath away.
Yet here I am, looking across the room at her, astounded. It is handcrafted art, concealed in plain sight. It is the sun hidden among the blind. But for the sight he gave me, it is the most beautiful woman in the world he made invisible.