O Girl

Where everything is lonely,

I am my own best friend.

I have conversations on my own,

I polish the mask, by morning it looks blown.

You have a heavy heart,

so many stronger than me,

breaking their backs lifting it.

You will come one day in a waver of love,

Tender as dew, impetuous as rain,

The tan of the sun will be on your skin,

The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech,

You will pose with a hill-flower grace.

You will come, with your slim, expressive arms,

A poise of the head no sculptor has caught

And nuances spoke with shoulder and neck,

Your face in pass-and-repass of moods

As many as skies in delicate change

Of cloud and blue and glimmering sun.

Yet,

You may not come, O girl of a dream,

We may but pass as the world goes by

And take from a look of eyes into eyes,

A film of hope and a memorable day.