F
By tgb
F I flirt with foolish fancy, Each week’s dreary close. I am lifeless, listless, All that I am, Wrapped in hope till you come. I ache to know, Of you. Of your hands, I have watched them Glide across the ivories. I closed my eyes, Head, rested on imagined lap You played for me Your music was mine. I touch your cheek, Turn to me, Want me as I want you? You toss your head, Your glance, Fells me like an arrow, Shot from love’s bow. That smile, sympathy, For loves begging fool? Or a sign, Of acquiescence divine, I doubt I will ever tell. For I have not courage nor spirit enough, To break rejections long fall. James A Mackay Written January 14th, 2002 © on Jan 14 2002 08:03 AM PST 0 • 8
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"F..."