Hundreds of suitors yearn for your heart,
I am simply a poet of movement, a jockey of word art.
As suitors sell and try to hustle you with romance,
I can only splash the screen with colors and dance.
They are beaters of drums as gold banners unfurl,
They offer you lush gifts in a glistening world.
Suitors also bear torches and are carvers of stone,
But whisper their poems and always surrender their thrones.
And there in your doorway, no shadow will be cast,
As you are surrounded by ghosts from the past.
Just look into their eyes, you'll see windows of pain,
Ready to collect your heartache like droplets of rain.
Yet I stand before you, with my palms to the sky
Not much in my pocket, It's of no use, I've tried.
What I can offer, is where words have no place,
A heart that's true, and my love for you that awaits.
