I’m not the person who walks with you through autumn leaves
In the old park near the school where children play in innocent reverie;
I’m not the man mingling souls with the lady of all his dreams,
But I am the man who desires such things.
I’m the midnight candle that burns for love
Beneath the gentle gaze of the moon,
I’m the prayer spoken upon a pillow
That will softly float into a woman’s room.
My senses will one day all disappear
Into the fragrance of her perfume,
I will be the single teardropp of water
Entering the essence of her ocean for eternity.
Uriah Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/essence-of-her-ocean/
