May 1st, 2008
In soft and lulling tones to me wind cries.
Its voice is soft but sorrow slumbers there.
I can tell from deep and watering eyes
That you cannot consider us as a pair.
We banter in words that mean not a thing,
When they, sweet silly things, fall from your lips.
But to me they are something warm breaching,
My doubts and my fears that they are just quips.
I am afraid with feelings unsuppressed,
But I am a neophyte, just clueless
As to whether I'm just your first conquest.
But I can't think that because you're guileless
And so I stand doubtful, shaky, blue;
Uncertain whether I am loved by you.