I Know She Does Not Think of Me
I know she doesn’t think of me
As I think of her in kind;
Like gentle rain on flowers dancing
Easy on my mind.
She doesn’t know what I don’t show so
Deep within my being;
This feeling of forever-ness
And loveliness I’m seeing.
The way she walks, talks and whispers
Softly like a breeze;
Flowing like a river sweetly
To the wistful, waiting sea.
Perchance she does not recognize
The way I turn within
Into someone other than
The man I’ve always been.
From day to day and year to year
As clear as mirrors tell;
Until she looks into my eyes
And casts her magic spell.
As real as any dream comes true
And hatred has no bite;
I’m sure she feels the way I do
As sure as wrong is right.
Dare I say she’s mine today
Without more than wishful hope;
To touch her hand and understand
I’m up against the ropes.
With blood stained cheeks from restless sleep
Deep down on the canvas floor;
Where I lie dying and see her flying
In my mind forevermore.
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