Your speech, your slurs, your coughs, your whispers

Your eyes like windows to your soul,

Behind glass, those frames, your look hinders.

Your words fill me like a bottomless bowl.

Oh, Sidney, that hair like wild fire

Your eyes like gems from below

I dream of your touch, my desire.

The love of yours, would you bestow?

Freckles, spotting your face like pepper

I feel you could add a bit of spice

To my life, I could love a Scottish stepper.

My heart beats for you; once, twice, thrice.

But alas, these things will never be;

Why, Sid, can't you come and find me?