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.