The temptation, of course, is to be timid,
to be muted in any declaration
of desire, any pronouncement of passion,
to cautiously suggest an interest in
pursuing a romantic entanglement.

And yet, I would not write but for temptation:
tempted by your lips and by your lithe body,
by your intelligence and by your beauty
which shines through your smile and in your eyes. Thus, on
the balance with this, how could I not pen

these words of passion, of desire, of hope:
hope that although your heart grieves for another
it will bloom with love and this grief will wither,
that these words will burn in your heart and will show
that the past is prelude, that we change and grow?