by Luis G. Dato

Sitting behind you in the bus today,
My mind and heart declare themselves at war,
The one pursues a distant, other star,
The other, you, and seeks not far to stray.
Thus I meet hindrance as I write my lay,
The clash throws all my morbid rhymes ajar,
The close and far all my iambics mar,
And what I write is not what I would say.

For who has will so strong as to contend
And be upset not by unwonted chance,
And who will not the writing put to end,
And in its stead up front steal just a glance,
For seeing you what mind will not unbend?
Confusedly, I rime “hair” with “romance”!

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