I cannot see yet know you’re there I cannot touch or feel your hair I cannot see how bright your smile I cannot ask to stay awhile I cannot see your fingers play I cannot watch you move away I cannot hear you when you laugh I cannot even run your bath I cannot see how red your lips I cannot feel your rosy tips I cannot smell your sweet perfume I cannot hear you leave the room I cannot kiss you at the sink I cannot buy a coat of mink I cannot walk with you hand in hand I cannot give a wedding band I cannot play around with you I cannot do what others do I cannot smell your muffins fresh I cannot feel your warm hot breath I cannot make love to you I cannot even see you through (the bad times) I cannot go to your bed at night I cannot even hold you tight I cannot touch your cheek so soft I cannot help you sort the loft I cannot watch you sail a boat I cannot nuzzle at your throat I cannot hear you mumble I cannot feel you tremble
All these things I want to do. All these things are meant for you. All these things I would you give, but cannot.