If I could acquire inspired desire
Or fly from the seas through the trees of disease
If I could make sparks from the marks in the dark
Then maybe you then would see me
If I could fly high with my eyes in the skies
Or write all your wrongs with the longest of songs
If I could fly low, to and fro, down below
Then maybe we could get along
If I could right sonnets to fill in your bonnets
Or rescue your gloves from a dove high above
If I could give kisses of bliss to be missed
Then maybe you'd give back your love
Your voice is the meaning of dreaming and scheming
Your face is the meaning of sight
If ever you see what you're meaning to me
Then maybe my dreaming is right....
If never you see what you're meaning to me
Then still will my dreaming be right.
PUBLICATION: Vortex, mid-June 1995, East High School
HISTORY: The initial thought here was, "I should write a poem
that I can say was written on a special day." And so, I forced
this one onto paper towards the evening of my eighteenth
birthday.
This poem was a good sign that a change in age was not hurting
my writing skills...yet.
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