If I could pick some sunshine, and hold it in my hands,
If I could ride a rainbow to far-off radiant lands,
If I could sprinkle star-dust upon a restless sea,
Then I could read the riddle of why you’ve chosen me.
Ever the bridesmaid,
wallflower,
third wheel –
until tonight.
Chosen.
Sought out.
Pursued,
relentlessly romanced.
Delighted over,
enraptured by,
the Lover of your Soul
paints you beautiful,
veils you in Murano lace,
drapes your shoulders with diamonds,
parades you before your peers,
dressed head to toe in
His
Love.