A structured poem state the things I feel?
Ballades are nice, but somehow sound unreal,
So out here on the icy ground I kneel
and raise my pen.
If sonnets cannot hold me in the night
How can a sapphic ode turn things aright?
Upon my page you lie, in virgin white
The words ask: when?
And what of sagas, virelais and such?
They cannot recreate your lover's touch,
Yet here I am, a pencil in my clutch
to try again.
Perhaps a simple prayer will say much more,
Abandon rhyme, forget the metaphor?
And tell you, as I knock on Heaven's door,
Please say Amen.