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.