I desire not,
Thee's soul.
Nor any fervent wish,
Thee gave it all.
Or artificial pieces of shine,
To show thine affection for me.
I crave,
For none of those.
But when summer recedes,
And chills slithers in,
Eyes are pit,
Decayed all that green.
If a thought of me,
A memory,
Bringeth a smile
To thine woe begone lips
Then that, is enough for me.
I beg not,
For love albeit conditions,
Love is a fool's whim
Victim of beauty and dimes.
Thence i beseech,
Imprison me in thee's mind
Hovering as though thy shadow.
When apart by flesh, in woe,
But one, somehow, in spirit,
Lingering in thine heartbeat.
So at times
When thy footsteps falter,
And no silhoutte further or behind.
That echo of me thee carry
In the recesses of thine mind,
Giveth thee strength, a thought kind,
To further thine tiresome journey
When happiness seems a forgotten imagery,
Then i doth this life well-lived,
Every desire, every hope fulfilled.
