I’ve cried the tears of weeping willows
And wiped my face on velvet pillows
While resting thoughts of agony
Betrayed the aches she couldn’t see.

I moaned my call to aspens mellow
Of forests dressed in autumn yellow
And sang upon a windy shear
A dying song she couldn’t hear.

I wrote with feathers of a raven,
In ancient ink of lovers’ haven,
A poem meant for love to plead
In soothing lines she couldn’t read...