I look at you and the world sings,
But when I compose
All that comes are words words words.
If it were possible to write
A symphony
The likes of which the world has never seen,
And when you pass
May never be heard again,
I would.
It would flow out of my pen
As the blood in my veins
When I have mere thoughts of you.
A gushing torrent unable to be stemmed
Proclaiming you my best
Whirls around endlessly in my head
Only to stop its grand procession
If you decide to walk on by.
And with that moment
The stream of my body will tire,
Slow to a trudge, and then begin to sleep.
And my life will sleep,
Perchance to dream you back to me.