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?
