As I look upon your face,
pale in the midst of bleak pain,
I think of the love in you for
this lady who walks the lane.

My heart asks, “What do you see
when your eyes this lass do follow?
What feelings flow through your body,
to make your breathing so shallow?

This hurt she inflicts on you
allows her to invade and reign,
the love you’ve stored away
for this lady who walks the lane.

A touch of her hand on yours,
the sight of tears upon her cheeks.
When another’s love she yearns,
and for his touch she does seek.

Cherishing the feel of her, fingers
running through her silk mane.
Wanting only to nourish your love
for this lady who walks the lane.



Kathleen Kohl/Levinski