• I wish this poem were pixie dust
    To throw into your eyes
    And make you see the loveliness
    Beneath my sad disguise.

    And I would take you in my arms
    And weave a magic spell
    That I could utter anytime
    To make you love me well.

    But alas my simple words
    Are like summer rain
    That drums on hills and fields and hearts,
    Then vanishes again.

    And though my love might make you bloom,
    You turn with fragile grace
    To gaze in aching loneliness
    At someone else's face.

    We lust for what we cannot have,
    A long, unbroken chain
    Of lovers who remain unloved
    And loved who love in vain.

    While I'm near mad with wanting you
    As trees must have the sun,
    You cannot help but find a love
    Who loves another one.