Around me this world was grey, br the sun’s piercing made unfit br by clouds of haze and dismay br that left all experience unlit. br br Like the scent of a distant rose br You were far and yet so close. br Reaching through a merciless mist, br recounting feelings I dearly missed, br br Your image stood before me, br on my lips a ghostly kiss. br A question phrased poorly br ended this innocent bliss. br br 'Tell me what you feel? ' I said teasingly to myself, br having no clue what an eerie silence would hallow br the search for an answer; into veinless depths I delve br of my soul that seems to transform deep into shallow. br br Is what wells up and appears like wordless wit br a sense of humour that remains entirely unfit br to portray a passion that misses every ground br whose source, in doubt, may prove fully unsound? br br Does my voice speak untimely, before I think, br and does my heart encourage me to bellow br until words like love and truth will fully shrink br and every notion of integrity appears mellow? br br So should I cry out and yet utter no voice br as a spindrift of doubt clutters the choice br of verbs and nouns that should somehow express br entangled feelings of love’s unabated progress? br br Her image still within me, br my ghostly hand on her cheek. br A question stated sorely br And an answer arguably weak. br br Yet in all this frailty still br resides the resonant thrill br of a blossoming love’s force br that sets a heart on a true course br br Your image is all I have now, br And it is to you I look, Miss, br For a question has become a vow. br And I pray for this innocent bliss.