The day goes on, and everywhere
He turns, he sees her in his mind;
He’s never, ever felt this way.
He’s never known love’s silken bind,
Or fallen with his heart a-splay,
Or lived each moment in the day
Fixated on one person.
The night comes on, and all the time,
He tries to sleep, but finds no rest.
But he will not some stalker be:
These feelings, they must be suppressed,
For they are not returned. And she,
In untoward serenity
Must be left to her passion
For he is not someone for her,
Although she’s every thought with him;
But this is love’s unfairness; it’s
An ancient, endless
Fashion
To share is human:
Indeed it is
Indeed.. the human condition as old as time itself. Beautifully written!