100 Words [1]:
“I wrote you a love song …”
My entry [2]:
“I wrote you a love song.”
She glanced up from her book in surprise. “You did?”
“Yeah, it’s not very good.” He stood up, cleared his throat, and croaked out a few lines. His voice wasn’t strong, his pitch wavered, his sense of rhythm was occasional, and the lyrics were — well, there weren’t any poets laureate out there worrying.
He trailed off, looking at her, watching her face. “It, um, it’s not very good, I guess. Maybe if I could play guitar or something –“
She smiled at him, got up, and took his hands. “Enough with the love singing. Let’s start with the love dancing.”