An empty space. I know it well.
Where dreams withold their inner soul.
Oh, would it be that I could tell
How long she waiteth in the hold.
There shadows linger. Dark doth fall.
I wait upon her voice to say
A line, a word for me to call
And pen each breath along the way.
Still silence grips this hollow night.
My eyes doth close in agony.
To pray for some aside delight
From depths to flow inside of me.
Yea, love conceals. She will not show.
Such empty void, no words to hear.
How will I find my love to know
When thoughts do fail to dare appear?
My Love! thou art the written word
Though now thou hideth sweet romance.
Thou hast, for now, withheld thy chord
And bidden me to take this chance.
No ink will blot this poem tonight
Oh, Brian, ne’r ‘gain this ask of me
Though words I love, I cannot write.
Seems I just can’t pen poetry.