To die, to sleep
To sleep, perchance to dream,
Aye, there's the rub-
Hamlet.
For but now this quote runs,
Runs arampant 'cross my mind,
For therein it lies,
Ifaith, it hides,
But ne'er has it been
So much that I have seen
For what I thought was true
Was
Or was not
Forsooth,
'Twas but bumbling miscomunication
And yet,
And yet I truly felt as though
There was something there.
And there may be
And there may not be
For, ifaith, ifaith,
She hath not pondered long enough,
Nor deep enough
For her to know,
Thus spake she.
And so I shall wait for I,
I know how I feel of her,
And I know,
I know that I can wait,
And, ifaith,
I will wait until,
Till that day she makes her mind,
Or that the rainy clouds of emotions long confused part
And make way for that sun of inner knowledge,
For I,
I know how I feel of her.
And yet,
And yet I shall not,
I shall not let myself become obsessed,
Nor over-enamored,
For ifaith,
I cannot let myself
Harm myself
More than I have already.