I wish this poem were pixie dust to throw into your eyes.
And make you see the lovliness beneath my sad disguise.
I would take you in my arms,and weave a magic spell,
that i could utter anytime, to make you love me well.
But alas my simple are words are like the summer rain,
that drums on hills and fields and hearts-then vanishes again.
And though my love might make you bloom,you turn with fragile grace,
to gaze with aching lonliness at someone elses face.
We lust for what we cannot have.
A long unbroken chain,of lovers who remain unloved,and loved who love in vain.
While I'm near mad with wanting you,as trees must have the sun.
You cannot help but find a love,who loves another one.