I know it is wrong of me to think this,
But why are there no other pursuers?
Why is there no one who lusts for your kiss?
Blame the foolish for being wrongdoers.
Absurd how my every thought runs to you,
While others do not even know your name.
I ponder how they could stray from your view,
And gawk at yet another gaudy dame.
A black sheep amongst the many white sheep,
Yet they are ignorant of your rareness.
Blessed I am to have your love to reap
Though how unfair of their unawareness.
Joyous I am to have no foes to fight,
Yet, tis sad your love
wasted on this blight.
No comments:
Post a Comment