Before I can hold you in my arms?
How many love me nots
Must I pluck from these flowers
Before I know you love me so?
Maybe this is just an obsession,
And my eyes have adjusted to a lustful nature.
But that doesn't seem fitting
For you are my muse,
And this versification
That stream from your inspiration
Can be nothing less pure
Than a revelation of my heart's desire.
Yet, as I wait in the notions of my deliberation
You seem to be an everlasting thought
That overwhelms my imagination,
And one that may forever be the purpose
Of this dreamers aspiration.
So, I ask
How many petals have fallen
And how many nights has there been?