If ever there was one I wish to hold;
To idly walk together, hand in hand —
The one I yearn; she wears those tresses gold
That zephyrs coy had tossed and gaily fanned.

With eyes of blue, though nothing like the sky,
Her blue is but a dream, a lover’s pool
To gaze upon; this feeling leaves me shy,
And for that moment, suddenly the fool.

Her winning smile, its strange effect on me —
No need to speak, for anything I’d say
Could never touch the ear. How can it be?
A love-struck fool, whose words could n’er convey

Emotions and desires? This moment slips?
Nay with a kiss! — My words upon her lips.

Ferrick Gray
© 2018
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