I Stood Close
When while the world rounded slow,
I remember the speed of knowledge,
that piece of our rude lives,
learns with regrets, desires with need,
I stood at your door and witnessed beauty
without acknowledging soul.
I gathered my eyes upon your every
crevice, curve, delight toward center,
your eyes, with dark seas of passion,
waiting to be heard, asking for a moment,
yet my haste proved far too slight,
to imagine such elegance in my world.
I stood at your door, and barked my pleas
like the stolid source of imaginary passion.
While the world would turn slow,
I did once have opportunity to love,
though I choose to need rather than
while your offering of sweet passion
the sensual nature of response await.