When Words Are Not Enough

by William Bean
This love poetry I write
seems little more than an odd
collection of words and feelings,
like lines scribbled in sand.

Do I dare to step over,
take the chance, show my feelings?
Or do I cower in shadows
afraid to love, to live?

My tongue trips on even the most
simple of words while feelings
cling as dead leaves on icy branches
of winter, afraid to fall.

Where is my Cyrano, that great
lover, whispering such words
no woman has heard here before?
Come now, teach me to speak.

The enemy is at the gates,
but no help comes to defend
and I am left to face that fear
alone, the line is drawn.
04/02/2003