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She has secretly fallen,

Yet no one to catch her,

Tucked away in shadows,

She knows no lover.

He sees her everyday,

A smile, a glance,

Oblivious they stay,

To Cupid’s guidance.

She longs to be with him,

To touch him,

Hold his hands in hers,

Alas, that image remains dim.

He walks past her,

Noticing strain across her brow,

The ache displayed across her face,

And the sorrow that a longing for love allows.

She sees him there,

Her heart breaking as the distance grows evermore,

Her insides crumbling,

Penetrated by love’s scornful thorn.

If only he could tell her,

Bare his soul to her,

Pour his heart out so she would know,

That she is his every thought, an Angel of prayer.

If only she could tell him,

Give him her heart in words,

Than he would know,

That he is her song like that of the beautiful songbirds.

Forever they wait,

Apart and never as one,

Awaiting their moment,

That happens to very few, if only some.

Love may be blind,

Love may be scared,

But why not take a chance on love,

For love is meant to be fared.
                                                             (b.e.)