entreat

What tender solace wounds my pride
when you are in proximity?
And yet your silence burns inside
from far away with every plea
that my soul makes before our God
to bring our lives into concert.
Although I try not to be awed,
your frail demeanor can't avert
my blind allegiance, for I cleave
my breast to yours with one heartbeat.
In love alone I do believe
till, bodies gone, our souls will meet.

Eternity's a poor excuse
to wait for something yet to be
although the two of us can choose
we long defer our ecstasy.
What immorality is this
that forces hearts to be silent
to wait for one long deferred kiss?
But wait too long and love is rent.
Is there one word you can attest
to so our hearts ally as one?
Till then, my heart makes this request
until love's goal passion has won.

©2008 Cynth McGarvie-Bage