Reaching without hope
My palms press against the barrier of glass,
I stare longingly at your precious form;
Sitting amongst satin, above my class,
Diamond like, glittering, beyond the norm.
A rose blossoming under the sun's rays;
Your beautiful petals appear silky,
I reach out to you, but thorns block my way;
My fingers not harmed, but remain chalky.
You hang above me, not within my clutches,
Your round fruit form too high for me to grope,
I know I'll never taste your sweet fruits,
But a fool I am, reaching without hope.
Though I will never have you as my own,
I am blessed, if only to have been shown.
