What I want to ask of you is this,
If I can find the nerve to make the leap:
Life scatters dreams across the hills of sleep,
Lest we be too easy in our bliss.
Yet I am aware what I might miss.
Only what we treasure can we keep,
Ultimately sowing what we reap,
Modeling a world upon a kiss.
And so I must reveal to you my heart,
Recalling all my courage from its rest,
Ready for whatever word might be.
You are all the object of my quest,
My cynosure, my life, my other part.
Each line of this begins my urgent plea.

About the Author:
Nicholas Gordon


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