Thoughts Of Thee
My daylight hours forbid a thought of thee.
by Fay Slimm
I must not even write thy name on rainy
Steamed-up windowpane. The leaves of windy
Whispering tree may comfort me by naming
Out it's gentle song to thee, but not for I
To utter single sound. Clouds pass shameless
Patterns of your face, forming in the sky.
I seeing, inward start, for joy - but blame
The sun for blushing my pink cheeks, spying
Frowns on surrounding watchers, I hasty
Take my fan and smile, and with calm remain
All day, - but when at night I fall asleep
With my first dream thou my love comest too.
My dearest one a rendevous I keep
Within thine arms. With thee my hopes come true.