Garamond

Is it ok to fall
in love with

a type of face?

Fine-boned like a woman
or a bird, Garamond

you are mine. Take
my words, take

my phrases, take
my stanzas, take

my heart
and do with them

what you will.
Bookman, Baskerville

I have loved you well
but, Garamond

takes me dancing,
sends me spinning,

finds me spaces
you never could

And should a sans serif
try to claim me

and take aim
at art,

I would remind
It gently,

“I belong to Garamond
and we shall never part.”