I long for her all through the day,
inspired by her lissom beauty;
that I could spend my years reclined this way,
were words and art my only duty.
There encircled by her spiralling flesh,
where deepest thought can fin'lly be expressed,
the worldly chaff from out my soul there I can thresh,
when my all guilts and triumphs I confess.
And there at last, unburdened, can I simply "be",
as solemn as some silent, separative sea.
With nothing left but love, and love to do,
yes my pathetic unrequited love for you.
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