I Love You In Your Tragic Beauty

I watched you in your tragic beauty walk beneath my window.

Eyes aimed high, but unfocused . . . . sure, you never noticed me.

You always wore the same dress; always bore the same

expression: "It's a loveless world so what's the point of looking?

Let it be . . ." I considered throwing roses--thought I'd maybe

wave a flag. Had to try and force some small connection--

but, there's a snag. It's my confession that I watch you in

my tragic isolation. In my fear . . . that's the way it's been

for years. That's the way it will always be . . .