Years pass by
time measured as fine silk
the fabric of mind
slowly weaving through my fingers
yet never a grasp hold true
Memories tied, drifting
to the ground
dissolving what was believed
then, now, forward
love can be the trickiest of court fools

This heart
dazed if to be honest
As to where these lingering wishes
must lay
tales of others in view and thought
Tyche merely scoffs
So to these emotions
all must be vaulted
Your eyes
it will prove to be a difficult task
many seasons gone yet still
they are travelers with no home

As if a princess by daily virtue
lowly am I the servant
never forced
willing for all bidding
if only to hear your voice
in a moments pass
I wish to be so fortunate
dreams of Knighthood vivid
across the imagination
that to become true
I may take your hand in courtship
and in time create a Camelot

Though reality sets
leaving me only to gaze to Aphrodite
perhaps a simple mans hope
as hope is, longing

Beauty radiates
in the old of holding you
warmth from your lips
bring even giants
to knees bend
Fleeting memories
yet pictures remain
half-wit I was
to let slip away
ignorant in my youth
the arts of true romance
taking granted chances to never rise
another day
Paths separating
hands entwined
falter to fingertips
becoming a mirage
I stand alone in the Sahara
the sight of what was genuine gone
as the dust blows
rendering me deaf and blind
in the soul as the storm pitches

Be this just a horrid dream I live
Shake the flesh awake that you may again
lay beside me
embracing each other
growing as lovers do
become a tale for masses read
standard to which all wish lived

A chapters end, never the story
belief still alive
I know nothing else but this affection lives
Second chances
let the dices be turned my way
Your hazel eyes burned serenely
as mine close
I see yet only see your smile
I hear yet only hear your voice
I feel yet only remember your touch

If walk on my knees to Everest's top
let me walk to your arms
If swim the channels of the Atlantic
let me swim in the depths of your heart
If run the route of Marathon over on skin
let me run the beaches of your soul
only to prove honor of my words
I pray

Pray this not the end
perhaps only an Act
Scene by Scene
I wait upon the hilltops

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