Standing Here In April Rain
Forgive me for the wrong I do,
in my attempt to show to you,
that I am yours if you desire,
me, like soak-ed ones, a fire.
For I can tell you night and day,
that I want you with me to stay,
that I dream of your love alone,
that my resolve is writ in stone.
But if you cannot yearn for me,
then choosing me will only be,
a half-felt truth, a meager hope,
a dream not chased, a hangman's rope!
And I could never bear the pain,
standing here in April rain,
of knowing that I'm not the one,
you wish to set your heart upon.
So do not think my cautious love,
is weak, my dear, my darling dove.
It is the question of my soul,
am I more than a timely goal?
I cannot strive to win your hand,
if you do not understand,
that I dream of your happiness,
even more than my own bliss.
And I will sooner bear the pain,
standing here in April rain,
if I see your heart is free,
with a man who is not me.
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