To be dateless and alone,
Feels like a dog wanting a bone.
Many sleepless nights,
Dreaming by candle light.
Writing poems of love,
About the beauty in a Dove.
With so many women around,
To be myself, is to be a clown.
Some call me strange,
But I'm not deranged.
I just take my time,
To let the words rhyme.
I'm just looking to find myself,
With out a lot of wealth.
So I climb a tall tree,
To look upon the open sea.
Seen the future in the past,
Right here in this looking glass.
