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angel

with the slightest tremble, the smallest error
the surgeon ends the life of his patient
and like him, i choose my words, words which
by their very nature are almost certain to fall short in their quest
but better to fall short in this than never to have fallen
under your gaze  

like a fall leaf floating, you swim
in and out of my window
what you inspire, i cannot call joy, nor even lust
for you are not real  

a daisy, a daisy, a spring day daisy in a warm breeze
your pale, ethereal charms captivate me
i should very much like to know you in the rain
sleeping, smiling, you are the ideal in which the daisy was made
your white petals
your sun-coloured face

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