Tuesday, June 30, 2009


Peering at me from quaint corners in a room
Little do they know or suspect
What is concealed below the surface
Careful of my thoughts in circumspect
Most see me in bold upon first glance
Eyes seem to fix on me in a room
I wonder if they can hear my heart beating
Or if they can sense my gloom
The morning sun rises
Songbirds are employed
In latter days it was something I enjoyed
When impressions did not make their mark
I ran about happy as a lark
As I got older and reminisced
Realizing all that had been missed
Though in possession of a beating heart
I could not love as most do
A sadness crept over me
Lost in the longing
Of a silent sea
Observing others who knew
How to love
Knowing the joy of the morning dew
The songs of birds were not just songs
Imagining the language they tried to speak
As the hart who desires to seek out his mate
Along the side of a quiet creek
It is something to know in discovery
That which eludes me
Slipping past my reaching fingers
In a crowded room full of people
Where odors persist and perfume linger
A smiling lady glances over at me
Her eyes filled with secret desire
Slow burning coals persist inside
Yet there is no raging fire
The thought of touch repulses me
For which I have no ready reply
Inside I feel a thousand deaths
Yet unable to cry
Others have courage where I do not
Outside appearances continue to elude
What others think when they gaze at me
From across such darkened rooms

© 2004 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved