A thousand fair suitors all stab at your heart Those poets of movement and jockeys of art The high-volume vendors who hustle romance Splashing their canvas with color and dance The blasters of trumpets, gold banners unfurled They offer lush gardens in glistening worlds Yes, bearers of torches and carvers of stone Who whisper their sonnets and surrender their thrones And there in your doorway, no shadow is cast No lingering voices, no ghosts from the past Just a cluster of walls, and a window of pain Collecting the heartache like droplets of rain Still I stand before you, with palms to the sky No gold in my pocket, no thorn in my side And all I can offer, where words have no place Is a body that trembles, and this love that awaits
Posted on: Sun, 23 Jun 2013 21:04:03 +0000
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