May 7
The Lady tip-toes through my thoughts, and whispers soft, of what might be;
her words are couched in subtle style... is that some clue before my eyes?
or, is it wishful thinking? They are just some lines of poetry.
I read the words again, and yet... I know my heart cannot be wise.
There may be nothing there at all; and yet, my heart insistently
whispers...
read between the lines. She wouldn't use those words, unless
She has opened up her heart for you... it's true; can you not see?
But this would be a bold conceit... for such a thing to second-guess.
And, why should She choose me, alone... amongst so many willing hearts
arrayed before Her there, to choose? I am no better than the rest,
except, perhaps, in weaving words... such pretty pictures to impart;
but, they are only words; although, in truth; I think, if I were pressed;
I would confess that they were more than that... they are soft whisperings
my heart tells me I should reveal... though seeming better not professed
at all, for fear of gently tugging at Her fragile, sweet heartstrings
laying forth the heart-truths She might wish were better not expressed.
The Lady tip-toes through my thoughts, and whispers soft, of what might be;
her words read like a Lovers Kiss... is that some clue before my eyes?
or, is it just my wishful thinking? And, is it just poetry?
I read the lines again, and wonder if my heart, soft tells me lies.
I cannot read the truth as by her subtle thoughts, I am caressed;
a tiny hint perhaps, just there? And further on... that phrase, likewise.
Is there a whisper here for me? A few soft words that might suggest
something I might hope to find... on which a fragile dream relies.
A fragile dream of whispered words soft penned, perhaps, not just for me;
what makes me think it could be so?... such bold conceit is most unwise.
And yet... I feel there's something there; the softest, sweetest melody
I scarcely hear at all; a whisper softly cloaked, beyond my eyes.
Does my heart deceive me? Is there nothing there? Perhaps, it's true.
Little here to base a Love affair upon... it's too absurd;
and yet... from less than this; down through the ages, Great Romances grew;
and Love will always find a way... and not least; through a whispered word.
her words are couched in subtle style... is that some clue before my eyes?
or, is it wishful thinking? They are just some lines of poetry.
I read the words again, and yet... I know my heart cannot be wise.
There may be nothing there at all; and yet, my heart insistently
whispers...
read between the lines. She wouldn't use those words, unless
She has opened up her heart for you... it's true; can you not see?
But this would be a bold conceit... for such a thing to second-guess.
And, why should She choose me, alone... amongst so many willing hearts
arrayed before Her there, to choose? I am no better than the rest,
except, perhaps, in weaving words... such pretty pictures to impart;
but, they are only words; although, in truth; I think, if I were pressed;
I would confess that they were more than that... they are soft whisperings
my heart tells me I should reveal... though seeming better not professed
at all, for fear of gently tugging at Her fragile, sweet heartstrings
laying forth the heart-truths She might wish were better not expressed.
The Lady tip-toes through my thoughts, and whispers soft, of what might be;
her words read like a Lovers Kiss... is that some clue before my eyes?
or, is it just my wishful thinking? And, is it just poetry?
I read the lines again, and wonder if my heart, soft tells me lies.
I cannot read the truth as by her subtle thoughts, I am caressed;
a tiny hint perhaps, just there? And further on... that phrase, likewise.
Is there a whisper here for me? A few soft words that might suggest
something I might hope to find... on which a fragile dream relies.
A fragile dream of whispered words soft penned, perhaps, not just for me;
what makes me think it could be so?... such bold conceit is most unwise.
And yet... I feel there's something there; the softest, sweetest melody
I scarcely hear at all; a whisper softly cloaked, beyond my eyes.
Does my heart deceive me? Is there nothing there? Perhaps, it's true.
Little here to base a Love affair upon... it's too absurd;
and yet... from less than this; down through the ages, Great Romances grew;
and Love will always find a way... and not least; through a whispered word.
