I Know She Does Not Think of Me

I know she doesn’t think of me As I think of her in kind; Like gentle rain on flowers dancing Easy on my mind. She doesn’t know what I don’t show so Deep within my being; This feeling of forever-ness And loveliness I’m seeing. The way she walks, talks and whispers Softly like a breeze; Flowing like a river sweetly To the wistful, waiting sea. Perchance she does not recognize The way I turn within Into someone other than The man I’ve always been. From day to day and year to year As clear as mirrors tell; Until she looks into my eyes And casts her magic spell. As real as any dream comes true And hatred has no bite; I’m sure she feels the way I do As sure as wrong is right. Dare I say she’s mine today Without more than wishful hope; To touch her hand and understand I’m up against the ropes. With blood stained cheeks from restless sleep Deep down on the canvas floor; Where I lie dying and see her flying In my mind forevermore.