Dirty Hands
by William P.J Hine
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
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Those deep blue eyes,
That sparkling smile,
I’m somewhere else,
The world slows,
It’s me and her,
I half smile,
Then frown,
For deep within me,
The realisation cuts me like a knife,
We can never be together,
She hardly knows my name,
I can no longer meet her brilliant eyes,
No longer bask in her smile,
I am ashamed,
Of my shell,
Of my soul,
How could one so pure dirty her hands with me?
A simpleton with an illusion of adequacy,
Yet something remains within me,
A glimmer,
All I have left,
Hope. |
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