My arms are aching...perhaps because
They are not surrounding you,
A job for which they were honed
From the basest of materials,
And of which they feel scarcely worthy.

These pages kneel before the words
That I write upon them, since
All the script that they have carried
Before now seems somehow inferior
To you, the most stunning of subjects,
You of whom I feel humbled to write,
You who at last makes this loosely bound
Language feel like poetry.

This head bows at the thought of you,
And shakes in disbelief at the notion
That for a short time you let
These lips touch yours, and these
Clumsy hands caress your satin skin.

And now I am left here to wait
For what may be the last time
That my eyes meet yours,
And our fingers interlace,
And our bodies approach unity
In space and in time.

Perhaps it will not be the final moment
That we share in the same place.
I can but dream of a future in which
I may bathe in your gaze daily and
Remind you of how beautiful you are,
And how you make me glow with a brightness
To outshine all of the undiscovered galaxies.

But if our paths are destined to diverge,
I will remain for the rest of my days
In awe of the beauty I could touch for
Such a short time, and in hope that,
One day, you will find someone to make
You feel as special as I felt when my arms
Were the ones that held you, and my hands
Traced every perfect contour of your skin,
And my eyes were the ones
Into which you fell.

07/02/2002

Posted on 07/11/2002
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince