Where does this shadow,
Doubt encloaked,
Arise though so unbidden?
A beauty gifted,
Bless-ed so,
But lost and sadly hidden.

What past intrusions
Caused this fear,
A lack of confidence?
With words and deeds
To change a mind,
Is now my future, hence.

Though recent hist’ry
Paints a view,
Of honesty untrusted;
With all my strength
And stupid words,
I’ll make a view adjusted.

For I not care what
May be heard,
From lovers in the past;
I’ll sow the seeds of
Beauty’s truth,
In blossoms made to last.

To me you are the
Of female loving grace,
And I would die a
Happy man,
With the memory of your face.


Unfathomed Reasons

And through the murk I search,
for these unfathomed reasons why you,
in your tender grace,
would love me.

I wait for the punchline
to this cruel joke,
the revelation why someone like you,
in all you are, would gift me this love.

Rushing to reassure that,
I do not doubt your love,
more that I doubt my own worth,
my own deservedness.

All I have is a hope,
a grasped at faith that you will not see
that which I cannot un-see,
in me.