I couldn't speak, not what I wanted,
not when I saw your face.
Your eyes, your smile, that I stop and stare and lose my voice to speak.
I wait to see you; then I shy away,
too scared to approach.
You wouldn't notice; would you care, for long distance admiration?
Would you care if I spoke, or didn't,
as it were; would you wish I did?
I wish I did, I wish I could, step outside the barrier and ask you out.
I wish I could talk, ignore all else;
jump fear just to say more than hello.
If I wait for my perfection then I wait forever and risk a lose of you.
But can I lose what I haven't gained,
through my own silent admonition?
What do I wait for, if nothing else, except held back by fear?
What do I lose, or gain by silence,
except not you and more silence?
But by voicing dreams, does that scatter them all?
At least I'd have the knowledge,
to move on or further my dream.
I could start again afresh, turn my eyes and heart elsewhere.
Or, by miracle, you said yes,
I'd dance a jig and be happy with you.
And any old memories that tinge and fall apart,
Just what was their worth anyhow?
From the back of the streets to the bedlam in need,
Can you judge a moment by the smile?
A glimmer is needed for a spark to fly,
A light in a tunnel that marks a time once passed.
Who watches the watcher when the watcher needs watching?
When prayer is soaked up and he gives it his all?
Where does he regain the strength to let it flow?
A light in a tunnel marks the end of a moment, a timeline, a century?
If the light goes out the memory remains.
And if the tunnel cracks with age and falls apart,
do the moments remember? Forget?
What was their worth if they depart like cheap dirt,
Back into the ground they are laid?
Forgotten? What if they are not.
They served a purpose in the moment,
made an impact, a crater, to a lost soul.
Are they needed beyond their help, like soothing words,
calm in a spoken way yet never retained?
Stuck in a tree,
in a circle,
watching life go past the shadow,
or straight down the drain with a gurgle.
Passing the time with the monarchs,
flapping their wings to push past us.
Moments are lost in a day dream,
impatient to last as it claims me.
Vying for truth that is pain free,
unable to speak of what could be,
frightened of moments I wish for,
battling to match wits
I hide here,
behind the leaves of the tall trees,
watching the moments go past.