By Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer
if I reach out to her
with words
or hand
or eyes
will she react
or smile
ingore
or show disdained surprise
the fingers many can defy
by seeming not to care
the touch so close
but unfilfilled
for hers are never there
the gaze of dark blue eyes
bestowed
on almost everything
look at then past
or through
my face
and make my dry eyes sting
and then they meet
my hazels, hers,
and spark in blue sea seethes
but then she looks at something else
on anything that breathes
You told me she would be my wife
“your children will be mine”
was what You whispered
me to think
so I'd write that first line
“The song you asked about”
began the first note that I wrote
she found it that same night
and Mozart turned into our quote
and yet she walked away
her eyes would shine
her back would turn
You told me what I had to do
and started me to burn
I flamed for You and felt Your grace
and joy and never feared
I knew you loved me
held me
made my heart burst as You neared
but flames did nothing but
hurt
dry
confuse
and throw my thoughts
when it was she who made the fire
and then called all the shots
too young I was, she said
too Catholic too far away
if we could have a future
it was surely not today
or in a week
or month or year
but I was her best friend
I'll take what she will give
I need her
just as You had said
and then we met
no letters, face,
the rules
were thrown away
the fingers touched
the spark combust
I heed to what You say
