Unsure of Your Love
Would that you were a gentle stranger
But you are merely a manifestation of
This hope that flies in on golden wings
Carrying with it some greater knowledge
Of dreams unspoken,words unwritten
And in the aftermath flickers and fails
Empty is a sound more painful than
An utterance of undying love that is
Soon disproved or erased with somewhat
Cynical amusement and yet-if there is the
Smallest or greatest of hopes between
The windswept pages of yesterday and
Tomorrow of loving or being loved by you
Fool that I am....count me in
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