III

When I sit down beside you, and cast away my confusion,
I know what I could feel and yet it is not there…
Should you wish to speak, or simply share in a quiet sitting,
then – I am ready.
It is not yet possible
to ask for trust, yet – I am sending mine to you now.
My evening imprint, my Lord D.B., Mr. Black,
and I would send you a tender caress,
but for that it is too early, too early, I know.
I hide love in the final lines,
just for you, just for you, just for you,
you can take it whenever you like…
I place hope in the final lines,
now without rhyme,
farewell.