"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.