I’m dying here. No response to love. No
muscle flinch to me passionate verse. No
a chance glance to me adoring eye. No
hint of breathless sigh to me love song. No
but frozen curse of silence it seems. No
romantic stroll along flowing streams. No
dancing a waltz to our inner song. No
balcony scene. No stringing along, no
e’en. No night snuggling on sandy beach. No
hearing mermaids singing each to each. No
pity for shot Cupid, nor me deep pain…
Ahh! A shot of faith! Whoa! We rise again!
Roger Armbrust
February 14, 2015
