Wednesday, October 13, 2004
You stand before me, sweet, unmarred.
Yet your gaze is restrained, and barred.
You will not meet my eyes-
For this my soul within me cries,
And all my hope, I feel that it dies.
Yet for one chance I live-
That you might someday freely give
The love I long desired.
Yet now my soul within is tired,
And dying hope longs to be refired.