I wish I had been gifted in the art of poetry to say that the following lines had been birthed by my own pen, but alas, they were not. Full credit goes to one of my brilliant, wonderfully talented friends who wrote this with me (and my experiences) in mind. This is certainly one of the best presents I have ever received: to have my essence in words forever caught.
Alone, your words haunt my ev'ry thought
Their meaning steals away as I draw near.
I remember now, what you must have forgot,
A smile that from my mind won't disappear.
What seek I in your voice as I most fear,
To know you, but to know you love me not?
Such doubt, such questions do in me arear,
And in their vain pursuit I am distraught.
They who find in scripture, truth, in science, fact,
Who prize philosophy, who medicine defend,
Cannot explain to me your heartless act.
I see it beat, it suffer, oh my friend
How long must we endure this life love-lack'd?
A word, but one, could put this all to end.
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