"To Tell the Truth..."
I can give you nothing.
Melancholic, mournful, I cannot bring you joy.
Tired, restless, sad I cannot bring you peace.
I have no skills beyond some worthless trifles,
I have no gifts beyond the commonplace.
My wit is rotten, my memory forgotten,
My speaking slow and stumbling.
Always mumbling, often fumbling, ever shy and silent,
I am hardly self reliant, though I often am alone.
All I have to give appears to be a heart that second guesses,
That's seared and stings to beat, that nothing 'ere impresses,
That dwells upon defeat.
I'd like to say I love you like a robin loves the spring;
I'd like to say I love you like a warbler loves to sing.
I'd like to say I love you like a lily loves the sun;
I'd like to say I'd love you when ev'ry day is done.
And though the world may fall apart whenever you may sigh,
Though a weary, cold, or distant glance may make me wish to cry,
Saying that my love rings true is nothing but a lie.
And evermore I think of you and wonder why.