HE COMES NOT TO ME
He comes not
When I send him flowers
With words and sonnets
From a distant heart
Too bright is his day
That he could not see me
He comes not
To my soul till it breaks a silent tear
For he has TO work and work
With no rest and play
That he do not seek me
When night falls
The great voices gone
All rocks and stones, pebbles and limestones
And oil rolled in from the mountains and sea
He comes not to me
By night
I plastered a dream around me
With all the stars, the moon and candlelight
And a history book by my side
He STILL does not come to me
