Of you I think wonder at night,
O woman of poetry, hands across the miles.
You found me in a dark place, a Blue Moon overhead.
Stars failed to come out to comfort darkened orb.
To walk down verdurous winding ways,
A shaft of light through the clouds, striking the path.
Of you I long for these things, and so much more.
For peace of mind, far from the city's dirty streets.
Of you it has come to this: searching for empty
Expressions and vacant words to quantify the way I feel.
Of you there is no measure: love is beyond the moon and stars
Which now blind the night; I 'd share this with you if I knew how.
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