Sunday, February 27, 2005
I tried to write a Valentine,
revealing secrets of my heart,
but recognizing love's not mine,
forbade the flow of ink to start.
No rosy words can grace the page
when crimson tears adorn my cheeks.
My spirit screams in silent rage,
impatient for the love it seeks.
A caring soul has helped me heal
and comforts me on darker days,
yet in my mind it can't be real
for distance blurs with doubtful haze.
It takes a touch, for love to be;
a kiss which seals the trust within.
Until, it's just a fantasy;
a game I play and cannot win.
So with my scarlet pen I'll write
but hope won't guide the ink that flows,
for darkness veils my brilliant light
and hides the flame of love that glows.