After darkness, the light returns,
and from the winter of the heart
   spring is reborn.
I seek neither joy nor recompense,
for all is as it should be.
In not seeing you, I fell
   into despair,
and imagined your giving yourself
to another man who neither
   loved nor cared for you.
Expect it, expect it,
   I repeated to myself,
steal yourself for the morrow.
I have never been loved,
   I thought to myself,
my heart has never been treasured.
But your heart, a heart that
   I treasure,
remains untouched, withdrawn
   where none can reach.
Your life is also a tragedy
   of the heart,
containing pain and betrayel.
Open your heart, if not to me,
   then for another,
but, please, who will treasure
the heart that I treasure so.

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© 1990 Steven E. Callihan

URL: http://www.callihan.com/